


A Hobbit's Business

by millionthline



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Courtship, Humor, M/M, Missing Scene, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millionthline/pseuds/millionthline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Rivendell, Bilbo Baggins receives a golden necklace from a certain dwarf, thus causing him to learn much more about dwarvish courtship than he's ever bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Steaming Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the first chapter via the lovely CakeMonster's reading [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/4te72lztmpk74a1/Chapter%201_complete_hiss_reduction.mp3).

A set of rolling, green lands may have once been the extent of his eye for beauty, but for one who had only ever snogged a girl once behind the party tree, it would come as a surprise for him to be so caught by another. So much so, that, in the event of stepping into the hidden valley by a path that at first had only seemed to lead to danger (if one ignored the smell of warm bark and fair weather coming from its exit), his gaze eyed at the solitary locks of hair that gleamed in the new light until looking down with everyone else to see the sight of an even city below. And his extent of his, well, curiosity, didn't stop at a particular fascination for dark brown hair and the two heavy braids it often bore. At this point it had gone down to reveling in a hidden study of the pair of brooding and stormy blue eyes as well, not to mention a dwarven-set face, a match of large hands, the voice that rang like a king of yore.

Bilbo Baggins, if anything, was a hobbit of normal means and thoughts. So he was quite sure that if in seeking a dwarvish prince something was to come out of it, it would only be a gruff laugh and a few slaps on the back to say _good try, you dim-witted fool._ Back in the Shire, dealings such as the one on his mind were generally ones that only occurred in a hobbit's tweens, hence ignored, but everyone was expected to marry once at age and start a family. Bilbo had done no such thing, nor did he visit a particular hobbit lass that may have him (as many wouldn't have minded acquiring such a well-to-do hobbit such as himself), or even keep any secret relations of any other kind. He was Bilbo Baggins, and thus didn't feel bothered to add a second name when writing off letters. So maybe now that he didn't have such things to occupy himself as writing letters or tending to Bag End, his mind found something else to think about. And it was just as ridiculous as it was frustrating.

To add to that, now he was in the heart of Rivendell, and was about to enter a room where his _something else to think about_  might just be fully and utterly unclothed.

After always having considered himself as a fellow of uncanny luck, the belief was all but disposed when he entered the room and found that the only tub in the bathhouse left was the empty one near the left. Surely, it wasn't such a bad thing to have one all to himself, but from the look of all the other scrubbing, singing and laughing dwarves in the other baths, they wouldn't be leaving any time soon. And now that Bilbo was here, and Gandalf went to one of the other bathing houses in Rivendell that was nearer to his quarters, there was only one left in the company that hadn't arrived. The little hobbit wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or utterly terrified at the prospect of being there still if Thorin did decide to arrive.

 _Just pay him no mind if he comes,_ was what Bilbo first thought as he padded to the tub, sat on one of its steps, and grabbed a wet towel to ring over his feet. But at once he realized how stupid it would be to do such a thing like ignoring a dwarven prince, nonetheless Thorin Oakenshield, so he instead continued on rubbing most of the grime from his furred feet before unclothing and slipping into the water. From there he moved in hurried, mechanical movements, trying to finish bathing as soon as hobbitely possible, before slipping further into the water and kneading his scalp.

Admittedly, when he poked his head above the water, Bilbo half hoped that Thorin would be sitting across from him, arms resting on either side of the tub in an arrogant posture as those were the sort that the dwarf most often made. But only steam rose before his eyes. Supposing this was all the best and that his luck was still in tact, he slipped out, dried, and clothed before exiting the loud room.

And so, it was in his own room where he found something else entirely than Thorin, though not completely unrelated: a small box at the foot of his bed, of elvish make and topped in hardened, patterned metal, smelling of lavender. At the opening of the clasp that sealed it, Bilbo found himself staring at what was nothing less than a very noble gift, and it soon landed in his fingers to move it around. Though it bore nothing but its own magic, a fine golden chain rested in his palm, with the light of the moon that shone through the open-aired walls nearly dancing like embers on its links. Its sparks even twirled underneath his eyelids, keeping him awake with questions, before finally weariness of travel and an ease that came with being fully bathed took him to slumber.

It wasn't that Bilbo hadn't seen the chain before, or whose owner it had been before it had been gifted to him. Back in his hobbit hole, which by now seemed leagues away and lived in a memory that had been created years go, he saw the same dancing embers flutter in his sitting room fire. A key had been strung to it before being tucked away to feel the warmth of Thorin's sturdy chest, which the hobbit imagined to be scarred with the marks of battle, but nonetheless a homely place to be pressed to. Not that he would know, unfortunately. But the question stood: why was Thorin's necklace here? Laying there, it had given his heart bouts of an uncomfortably rushed paced every time the question came up. Half of him wanted to just accept it and speak nothing of it, as perhaps it was a result of Thorin realizing how the hobbit studied his face for periods of time much too long to be normal, in which case the prince gave him the chain out of pity. If that was what this was, Bilbo wanted to do nothing more than never see the dwarven prince, lest he feels an embarrassment that would make him want to never speak to, or of, him again. Maybe it was simply a token of gratefulness for saving them all from the trolls, and acknowledging that it indeed wasn't meant as an insult when Bilbo shouted about worms in their tubes.

At night when they'd slept around the camp's fire, it was often he and the prince that stayed awake sitting up against the walls of caves or tree trunks, staring into the woods and open fields and thinking of home. Not often did they exchange words, but it was during those cold nights when the hobbit figured that somewhere they had something in common: an almost burning love for home, and their being separated from it. Maybe, Bilbo thought, Thorin felt it too, and simply thought that it would be a nice thing to do for someone who felt very alone and very small in a company of giants. With that thought he fell asleep in his massively big bed, his head taking up but a small portion of the monstrous pillow, indeed feeling very small.

What he woke up to, however, was something that didn't make him feel quite as alone. He roused sleepily and rubbed his eyes, stretched, and managed to get enough fuzziness out of his sight to see the wizard standing at the foot of his bed. "Though fifty you may be, my dear Bilbo, that is no reason to stay asleep longer than needed when you are in the Last Homely House!"

"Maybe, but I haven't slept so well since we left the Shire!" Bilbo said back, still looking around and quite in disbelief of his room's fine decorations after having slept, and blinking a bit at the open wall that poured the merry eastern sunlight over his floors. He stretched again, and at the movement of his shirt ruffling near his collar bone Gandalf caught a shining glimpse of the fine golden necklace around his neck, to which his eyes widened. However, he settled on an almost mischievous smile. "Now where did you happen upon that?"

"Happen upon wha - oh!" Bilbo dropped his shoulders immediately. "It was sitting on my bed last night!" he exclaimed hasily, not wanting Gandalf to think that his title of 'burglar' held any validity. However, the wizard only hummed in amusement, setting the hobbit quite off, and said over his shoulder as he walked out of the door, "lunch is nearly all set on Elrond's table, if you wish to eat."

Lunch? As a response, his stomach growled at the prospect of having slept through lunch, and Bilbo quite agreed.

Truth be told, the blonde-headed hobbit had to remind himself of homely manners to not leave his room in his sleeping clothes, so he quickly dressed and left his room. Out in his hallway, which lead to the other guest rooms where many of the other dwarves were staying, Oin and Balin were standing and talking before a wide window that looked over the hidden valley. Making sure that his new necklace was securely tucked beneath his shirt, Bilbo approached and asked, "which way would be lunch?" in case it was in a different area from where dinner had been the night before.

"Down in the mess hall, laddie. There should be enough dwarves making their way there to find it," Balin replied, showing that the food was indeed where it'd been last night. And if Bilbo was ever to remember where anything was in Elrond's large house, it would be where the food was laid. The same with the dwarves as well, who he did in fact run into, and nearly all of them were off to the same place other than a sparce few who had already went into the kitchens and eaten. Eventually it was Fili, Kili, Ori and himself who were practically jogging through the lit halls and rooms riddled with elves, who all seemed very amused at their urgency to eat. None of their excitement for Elrond's platters ceased when they actually made it to the tables either, and to much of the dwarves' delight, Elrond had taken Dwalin and Ori's comments into consideration and filled the places with much more meats of all sorts. After breaking through the huddle of the company who swarmed about the table, Bilbo finally got a seat himself and built a mountain of food atop his plate. For some reason or another, the hunger he felt last night couldn't come close to rivaling the emptiness in his stomach now, so it was only until he was half-way through his roasted leg of lamb that he bothered to look up at the laughing and eating others.

Thorin was absent from the table. Frowning a bit at that fact, more out of disappointment than thought, he continued eating soberly and listened to the chatter of the dwarves. Whatever reasoning the prince had held in giving him the chain, Bilbo wanted to at least thank him for it. "Where is Thorin?" he asked after a sip of nice, freshly brewed tea. It warmed him up like an old friend, as the drink was indeed that to him, and he hadn't had it since he was in Bag End.

It seemed to be only then when the others looked around, just noticing Thorin's absence as well. However, after wincing a bit to remember, Dori said after a mouthful of bread, "I believe that I saw him leave with the elven hunting party this morning." Which, to Bilbo, didn't strike him as the best of ideas, the prince being alone with so many of the kind which he seemed to detest, but the hobbit didn't say anything of it.

This seemed to kindle a related memory in Fili's noggin: "Ah, yes! He was invited by Elrond, I think."

Gandalf, who was at the head of the table (where the only chair he was able to fit in was), was already finished eating and had taken to blowing rings right through the candles at the center of the table and into Bombur's fat face, who didn't notice the smoke at through stuffing his face with a second lunch. He took a moment to tap some of its ash out. "Really?" Bilbo looked over at the wizard, and didn't miss where the old man's face changed from relaxed to startled by a realization. "Perhaps I should go, then."

 _Brilliant minds think alike,_ Bilbo said indulgently to himself, and picked away at a salad with his fork. Gandalf put out his pipe and shoved it into his robe before excusing himself from the table and quickly walking off.

"Pass the fish if you please, Master Baggins!" Dwalin yelled from the other end of the table, and Bilbo did just that. It didn't take long for him to finish up his lunch, which by how swollen his stomach felt he figured would last him till a comfortably late afternoon tea came along. For a moment he sat watching the others continue to eat and pile masses of food on their plates, quite content, before a rather Tookish thought appeared in his head: _Why not follow Gandalf?_

It wasn't really like he had anything to do in these elvish halls at the moment, and he wouldn't be following secretively anyway. The wizard was only a stone throw's away down the path, so Bilbo figured, so he could run along and ask to join. A walk would help settle his meal, anyway, and letting a chance to see the hidden valley pass by was by all means preposterous. And if Thorin was in a nice place to talk to, Bilbo figured that he may as well thank him for the necklace then and there. So up he stood, excusing himself in suit, and padded along after the wizard. "Mind if I join? I could use a walk," he said, looking up and brushing over his pockets for his own pipe.

"Oh, yes, yes. Now come along, and keep up."

Even after having been through a bit of Elrond's house, Bilbo still felt his lips part for an intake of awe-caused breath, since as was well known elvish building was something to be revered, whether someone is a man, dwarf, or hobbit. The backdrop of the elven city was nothing short of an eye-catcher either, as the trees were green and breathed sweet, fresh air, and the wind sang, whether by its own means or by the voices of the elves in the woods he couldn't tell. But what he knew was that Rivendell was indeed under its own enchantment of good air and fair, tall buildings. The Falls of Imlardis rang their greetings into the hobbit's large, pointed ears as the pair passed, and his eyes only tore from them when they had at last passed on. Though quickly the wizard did walk, the valley woke a store of energy that he hadn't expected to find, and kept up easily with fast-moving legs. From there they turned left and pressed on, Gandalf halting here and there to look around, particularly at the ground, which made Bilbo cautious to tread lightly lest Gandalf wanted to look back at the ground they'd already walked.

It wasn't long before Bilbo heard the quick tongues of elvish voices, and they turned on their path into a clearing where a pavilion sat, housing a party of elves and a dwarf that was resting down a deer that had been on his shoulders. All at once the hobbit swallowed and wanted to turn tail, and to pretend that the necklace certainly wasn't around his neck, but Gandalf hailed them before he could slip away. And anyway, it was only a passing feeling, for Thorin turned away at that moment to regard the water that rushed far down below the drop near the pavilion's roots, and another bridge that hung over the dancing river. As usual, his figure was brooding, but nonetheless prominent despite his current company of exceedingly tall counterparts.

"Ah! I take it that the hunt went well, then?" the wizard said, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised. He leaned on his staff, and Bilbo watched as Thorin turned and recieved a more thoughtful look from Gandalf. The dwarven prince said nothing and didn't move, his gaze not even bothering to shift down to the little hobbit, until his sight was cut by an elf who strode out of his shelter to greet them.

"Greetings, Mithrandir. All went well; the woods are lively today."

"Lindir," Gandalf muttered, not unkindly, and Lindir dipped his head. "I've found that even when the woods quiet, the elves still harvest it fruitfully."

The elf's smile widened further. "Walking the paths, I take it?"

"Yes, something of that sort," his voice replied. An elf from the pavilion called, "it would seem as if it isn't only the elves that hunt well; I'd reckon that having a dwarf with us on every outing would let us bring back twofold!"

Thorin dipped his head at the compliment, and said a very brief word of parting before passing Lindir and meeting Gandalf. Bilbo felt himself tense, half out of thought of thanking him for the necklace, and half out of the expression that the prince wore. Once the dwarf's face had passed the elves, it became less than content, if it ever had appeared as that in the first place. "I would have a word with you, Gandalf," he uttered, his voice low, though Bilbo knew that the others would hear with their elven ears nonetheless. However, those in the pavilion made nothing of it, and continued on shuffling their kills to take back across the bridge. Still, Thorin had not glanced once at the now confused hobbit, and continued to what seemed to Bilbo as an attempt to burn holes into Gandalf's face with his stormy blue eyes.

It was only after Gandalf once again leaned on his staff expectantly when Thorin cast a sideways glance at Bilbo, merely acknowledging the halfling's presence, before turning his attention back to the grey wanderer. Bilbo dully noted that he smelled like lavender, a surprising scent from one so stoic and overall dwarf-like. "Alone."

They parted paths from there, Thorin and Gandalf further into the woods and Bilbo back down the path from where he and the wizard had emerged. And so Bilbo walked back by himself, idly fingering the long necklace around his neck and feeling awfully confused. Perhaps he was too quick to assume that Thorin had given this to him, or that it was even his at all. Though it was clearly of dwarvish make, at a quick glance it could be taken as a simple, thin golden chain, and if he admitted it to himself he got about half a second's look at the chain that Thorin had worn at Bag End. Maybe one of the other dwarves had placed it on his bed, before he went to bathe, perhaps.

 _But if one of them had, they wouldn't have been in there bathing!_ Bilbo thought to himself, and once again he was drawn to the conclusion that Thorin had indeed placed it there, and now wanted to make it clear that the hobbit should act as if he never did. And even though the Shireling had admittedly been naively gleeful at receiving such a lovely gift from the dwarf that rather caught his fancy, he figured that it was nothing but a silly hope, a fantasy that was really unwholesome, that he should gain intimate company with one so great as Thorin. Even so, there was still a severe feeling of discouragement that chiseled a faint frown into Bilbo's face.

Until, of course, when he walked back through the doors of Elrond's house and happened to pass by Bofur, who smiled his usual polite smile and said, "congratulations! I'm very happy for the both of you." And then, with a wink, he continued across the entrance hall and disappeared through an archway.

Somehow, the hatted dwarf always made Bilbo feel like fainting out of sheer anxiety.


	2. The Missing Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation is provided to Bilbo by a blonde-headed Thorin and a pretty dwarvish lass.

Through the trunks that bore brown and ashen bark, a sweet smelling breeze breathed on his face. His skin felt warmed with a bath of pooling sunlight that often managed to lance through the canopy, and each hastened step he took fell softly under the soft beds of grass and brush. A pair of kindled blue eyes, their oceans in a havoc of their own storms, flickered back over his shoulder before continuing on through the lovely wood. He wouldn't have admitted that the forest was as such, but it brought a bit of peace to his suspicion-filled mind with the near torpidity it was soaked in, thus drenching him in conflict between thinking at ease or thinking irrationally. And, to be honest, he often thought as irrationally as a, well, a dwarf. So perhaps it was fitting, as Thorin Oakenshield was nothing short of a dwarf.

"I think we've walked far enough," Gandalf said sharply. "Now, what is this about?"

After a moment's look around, listening more than examining the wood that now thoroughly surrounded them, Thorin finally harked the wizard's exclamation, as it was not the first one he uttered during their hasty trek. "The key, it's lost."

The expression on the grey wanderer changed from annoyed to immediately concerned. "You didn't lose it!"

"No! Of course not," the dwarf said back, and if he had succeeded in not showing his frustration before, it did now. "I clearly remember having it around my neck during dinner, but when I woke it was gone. _This_ , Gandalf, is why I would not have come to this damnable valley. I told you that the elves would try to stop us, and though I do not know how they learned of our quest, they've taken it!" By this time his eyes were nothing short of two rings wreathed in blue flame, and he had closed the gap between himself and his taller other to stare up seethingly into the wizard's face.

"Thorin Oakenshield!" the bearded man breathed, half out of disbelief. "Do not be so fast to jump to conclusions. It is a frightfully good thing that you didn't take up such a ridiculous idea with the hunting party today, or we all would have been thrown out like old dogs before sundown! I think that you could do with some long thinking about where you may have misplaced it."

"And I think that you place too much love in these tree-shaggers." Gandalf clutched tighter onto his staff at the insult, and Thorin paid no mind, as his accusation had settled as true in his mind. "We shouldn't have ever come here."

"Do watch your words. So far I have not led you astray, and that should be reason enough to trust me when I say that you should consider my advice," was what was replied, and it was a visible struggle to not yell on Gandalf's part. However, something that had stayed any anger from bursting out was a dim connection that had formed in his mind: the necklace that the key had rested on before. However, for reasoning that only he knew, Gandalf chose not to speak of it, perhaps because he figured that the disappearance of the key had happened after the gift. And however horribly unreasonable Thorin was being, he knew better than to halt such an ancient dwarven tradition of companionship, though its reasoning was quite beyond him. Thorin hadn't shown any particular interest in the halfling before, anyway.

However, his thoughts on the matter were all but thrown into the air when Oakenshield said, "well, what of the halfling? I considered your advice then, and what has he done to hel-" Gandalf found himself raising a brow when the prince found himself to abruptly cut off by nothing other than the shutting of his own mouth. Thorin clearly had remembered the incident with the trolls, and thus decided to drop that subject entirely. "I will look," he continued at length. "But if I do not find the key, Elrond will hear of it."

And so the dwarven prince left, now all but ignoring the fair woods from the embarrassment that flushed his face from having lashed out so immaturely. Left behind was Gandalf, who wondered deeply on the meaning of the necklace. Somehow it had appeared on Bilbo's bed that it wasn't by the hobbit's doing, he trusted that much. But if Thorin had spoken of the halfling in such a berating manner only the morning after he extended a request of companionship to him, the wizard wondered if the prince had even given it at all.

* * *

“Mister Bilbo! Would you give us a hand, please?”  
  
Since after he’d crossed paths with Bofur, the hobbit had found himself on a terrace that overlooked the river below, sitting on a bench and twiddling his thumbs nervously. Then he went ahead and stood to pace, clapping his hands on the side of his legs and wringing his wrists, trying to ward off an intense feeling of what Bilbo could only describe as an impending doom. What on earth was there to be congratulated about, nonetheless be congratulated in relation to Thorin? What did _happy for the both of you_ mean, anyway? In fact, he was so absorbed in his own fretting thoughts that it was only after Fili called for him that he noticed the dwarf. So it was only natural that he’d jump about ten feet into the air before turning, completely taken off guard.

From nearby, Fili gave him a little wave.

The dwarf was standing near the side of one of the walls, if it could be called that. Large stone chiseled to look like veins climbed up from the ground and latched onto the roof, which was where Bilbo, after squinting against the sunlight, saw a figure kneeling down. "I can find another way down," it called, and the halfling instantly placed the voice as Kili's. Now what was he doing up there? 

Walking to Fili's side, who was now gazing up at his brother, Bilbo followed in suit narrowed his eyes against the sun. From where he saw Kili, or his outline rather, who was in turn looking back down and regarding them both. However Kili got up there, he'd have some time finding his way off of the roof, was what the hobbit figured, and his assumption was confirmed. "Maybe," the darker-haired of the brothers called down, "if Mister Bilbo gets on your shoulders, and stands, I can grab on and get down."

"Are you quite sure that Mister Bilbo would be strong enough to handle that?" Fili called back up, and Bilbo's attention snapped to the blonde.

"How did he manage to get up there?" was what he, not particularly caring to deny his lack of strength. The last thing that he wanted was to be toppled on by a heavy dwarf.

Kili leaned down and threw a shadow over the two, making it easier for Bilbo to look up at the other's face. "The view is better up here! We were looking for a small clearing in the woods over yonder-" he gestured to the east "-but I don't want to risk hurting my ankle by jumping down from this high up." And then his face fell into one of deep thought, as it had been when the hobbit first arrived.

"A clearing?"

Fili smiled. "Yes. We've been setting up some-" and then he stopped, completely, and looked up at his dwarven other. "The traps! Kili, a fox would have gotten to them already!" Then, seeing Kili's frustrated expression, but clear refusal to jump down himself, the golden-maned dwarf hoisted Bilbo on his shoulders before the poor hobbit could say _half a moment!_ and very soon after found himself struggling to balance on a pair of wide shoulders, with the help of two hands holding his calves. In such a situation, though Bilbo was flustered, and had every reason to be so, having been pulled up as easily as a platter, all he figured he could do was stretched his arms out to the now crouching Kili. Then, the younger brother sprang, sending the tower made of dwarf and hobbit tumbling down.

So of course, Kili was the first one up, brushing his clothes off. "Well, that worked well!" Bilbo found it in himself to only mumble in reply, and was soon hoisted up by the two brothers.

"I think I've hit my head," Baggins muttered.

Unlike his brother, who said, "I'll be checking the traps - thank you, Mister Bilbo!", Bilbo found an expression of worry etched into Kili's face. Even as the golden-maned dwarf jogged off Kili remained, and said, "are you alright?"

Suddenly realizing that he was under such concerned eyes, Bilbo stuttered and said, "quite alright", but it was lost under, "I'd hate to think of what Thorin might do if he found that I caused you to fall."

This caused the Shireling to halt the hand that rubbed the back of his head. "I mean-" Kili blustered out, but he finished the sentence by balling up his fist and letting it drop on his leg. " _Rust and ruin!_ He told me not to tell anyone, least of all mention it to you." However, before Bilbo could insert any word into the one-sided conversation, the dwarf added, "but, congratulations! I know it isn't something to be talked of until you have decided, of course, but I've never seen Thorin so hastily ask for someone before." With a frown of thought, "actually never at all."

Bilbo opened his mouth again, but he was once again silenced at a now once again smiling Kili. "Do not worry! Only Dori, Ori, Bofur and I know, and we won't tell anyone. Wouldn't want much pressure on you anyway when concerning the matter, as it is a mighty lot to think about." And as he said those words, Bilbo did indeed feel a weight of anxiety press over him once again, causing his nerves to finally snap.

"Please, let's get this straight! It's a dratted necklace, not a marriage ring, and what you're suggesting is entirely improper; and Thorin hasn't even said anything to me, so I really don't understand what everyone is going on about!" By the end of it he found himself out of breath, but nonetheless frustrated.

Kili, unsurprisingly, looked shocked. Not only because the hobbit had snapped at him, too. "What is a marriage ring?"

"Oh." If there was anything to unsettle Bilbo more in this horrible situation, it would have been that. His voice lowered in disbelief. "Don't tell me that he _proposed_ to me."

A scowl fell on his face when the dwarf laughed. "No, nothing like that! Hobbits are uneducated about such things then, I'd reckon! Here, let's find Fili, and maybe together we could explain better. I hope that the traps are intact," he added as an afterthought, and with that concern in mind began to walk quickly.

With that they left, Bilbo dully trailing after his fast-paced other and still rubbing the back of his head. Once and a while Kili would look back at him on the hobbit's second outing from Elrond's house, the dwarf's smile that of a child that knows something that you don't, and it almost caused the very grumpy halfling to snap at him again before his senses gave into the chirping birds and soft grass of the forest. Even under the canopy of broad, green leaves, the hobbit's head of hair still caught a gleam of sun that crowned his head like summer honey, and the blanket of humming grass, gathering its noise from insects underfoot, caressed his bare feet.

"Are we nearly there yet?" the hobbit asked, wondering if it was really necessary to bring Fili into this mess anyway. From how he took it, and from what others had provided, what the necklace represented seemed to be nothing less than a marriage proposal. In what other context would people say congratulatory words, talk about things being decided, and most of all, speak of Thorin asking for others? However, if he was to be honest with himself, Bilbo knew that he knew next to nothing about the ways of dwarves other than an ever-thirsting love for gold, and a strange correlation with being respectable and having a magnificent beard. Though he knew that he fancied Thorin more than a little, he wasn't going to get his hopes as high as that, such as a proposal from the prince himself.

 _And what would everyone in Hobbiton think?_ he added to himself, quite naively one would add, to think that his dear people would see Thorin son of Thrain ever again. After all, the dwarf's home was under the mountain, and where great halls of stone lied, his heart did as well. There were no such halls or places of grandeur in the Shire.

"Yes, actually," Kili said, murmuring more than anything, as he seemed to be looking around an awful lot. With a small grunt he shuffled to a particular tree and circled around its trunk, seemingly to no avail. "I think."

It actually took them a good number of minutes longer before they heard Fili's faint humming from afar, which was a good stroke of luck, as they'd come in on the completely wrong side to see a tree with any markings at all. Not that Kili had realized this, of course, nor did he care to, as he only beamed and went quickly to his brother. "Well?" he demanded, and his brother nodded his greetings to Bilbo before lifting up two conies by their ears, dangling without a trace of any other wild animal having gotten to them first.

"Two traps set and caught these, and I dismantled the rest," Fili said, if a bit proudly. He then placed the pair into a satchel he'd brought on his person, and rose a brow at Kili's excited expression, as the brown-haired dwarf finally had a reason to tell his older brother the big secret. "Is something the matter?"

Bilbo shuffled his feet, still not quite sure if he wanted this problem voiced to more dwarves than needed. However, knowing Kili well enough to figure that a voiced disapproval wouldn't stop him from telling, he remained flustered and quiet as he'd been their whole walk. "Thorin," Kili announced, and Bilbo pressed his lips together, just waiting to get on with the explaining, as he felt like there was a frightful amount of that to do. "Gave Bilbo," and he gestured to the now somewhat annoyed hobbit, "a necklace!"

Fili's jaw hung a bit, leaving his mouth to wield a very surprised formation. "Did he now?"

 "Yes, yes he did," the hobbit said, quite bothered by the way that Kili was eagerly nodding to his brother, who was now happily grinning back. "And if you two would please, I'd like to know what that means, thank you."

Not a moment after, the brothers sat on an old, moss-covered log surrounded by dustings of daisies, and gestured for the hobbit to settle before them on the grass, who grudgingly did. To show his disapproval of being sat down and taught like a young hobbit learning his letters, he crossed his arms and looked at them sharp and expectantly. However, they took no notice, as they had already begun. "So!" Fili said, clapping his large hands together. "Maybe it would be best to start with an example. Now, let us say that I'm Thorin, and Kili is a pretty dwarvish lass."

"Let's stop right there! I'm neither a dwarf, nor a pretty lass!" Bilbo protested, his hand cutting the air at _nor_ , but his complaint was brushed aside.

"Tomatos and tomatoes, Mister Baggins," Fili said, and all that while Kili had parted his hair at the back of his head and pushed it over his shoulders, crossed his legs, and picked a daisy or two to put behind his ear. In any other situation, the hobbit may have been amused at the young dwarf with flowers in his hair and lashes batting, but now it only exasperated him further. The golden-maned dwarf shifted, puffing his own chest out, and started. "First thing's first.

"A necklace, or any other piece of jewelry or treasure in that manner, is only swapped, traded, or sold to those who are friends of their dwarvish makers. And this is because the giving of gold also means, when not let go of for profit, a proposal of companionship." He cleared his throat a bit, and added, "not to mention that the necklace given to you was one of the last remaining pieces of treasure that Thorin kept from Erebor, which makes it all the more meaningful."

"Is it?" Kili said, his facade dropping for a moment with the new interest on his face. Fili nodded.

"Companionship," was all that Bilbo muttered, trying to remember everything being said. "Go on, please."

"Though," Fili continued, his attention now to his brother. "The short interests do tend to be more fiery. Good for shags, really, if Thorin is into that sort of thing. In that case the necklace would be returned."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," the halfling sputtered after snapping his jaw up from its fallen position.

"Ah, yes. So, let us say that I have taken an interest in someone. Not romantically, of course, if one piece of gold was given, and no real courting happened before, but simply an interest in the makings of someone's person. If I choose to, I may attempt to solidify this by means of offering my companionship to another, thus saying that I have a deep respect for someone and am willing to be called upon whenever need be." With that said, to complete his example, Fili produced a rabbit from his satchel and handed it to Kili, who in turn took it and nodded respectfully.

Bilbo took a moment to understand this. "So," he said slowly, "if I were in trouble, he'd help me out of it."

"Yes, basically," Kili said, his thumbs brushing over the animal's soft fur.

Another few moments, and then, "well, I don't see how this is any different than how things were before. We are, after all, a company, and therefore all companions, and in a companionship."

"No!" Fili exclaimed, and Kili looked almost fretfully at his brother. "Alright, let me see if I can explain this better."

"No, let me try," Kili interjected, and he received a rueful look before the other dwarf finally nodded his head. "Alright, Mister Bilbo, it's like this. I have a deep admiring of Thorin, and so, as a promise of what might come next, I give him a treasure of mine," the rabbit was once again handed over, and Fili nodded his thanks with a stoic expression that Bilbo could only read as a poor rendition of Thorin's usual scowls, "as a statement of my unwavering loyalty to him, and what I'm willing to let grow if anything does."

Now it was this that made the unease settle in Bilbo's belly again. "What else would grow?" he asked, now completely absorbed in the two dwarves' explanations.

"Well, in that case, the real courting would begin after the initial gold is given." The rabbit was passed back, and this time, eager to fulfill his role, Kili batted his eyes and pressed a hand to his mouth. "After showing my growing affections, I'd give her another of my treasures, one that goes beyond the modest first," Fili explained. He offered Kili the other rabbit, who in turn held it to her breast and smiled, rocking a bit on the log like a lovesick tween thinking of someone she particularly fancied.

 _He,_ Bilbo thought, correcting himself, and instantly realized how caught up he'd been in the ridiculousness of Kili's acting.

"Of course," the elder brother continued, "this doesn't always happen, and most often stays as a simple bond of companionship. However, when it does, it is quite often that unlike the first gift of companionship, the second gift is the entirety of a dwarf's wealth. And, if the person requested rejects, they still keep the gold, so it's very risky business indeed."

"And, if they accept?" the hobbit breathed.

"Then," Kili said, still holding the two rabbits to his chest. "They keep it under ownership of them both, and that who gave the treasure gives his or herself completely to the one who received it. And, of course, there's a wedding, and plenty of mead to go around."

Bilbo, who had remained attentively quiet most of the time, stayed thoughtful for a few moments longer. Whatever he'd done to bring this on, probably in the mess with the trolls, Thorin had apparently deemed him worthy of what to the hobbit seemed like a relationship of soul mates. Which to him seemed completely absurd, as they'd hardly conversed other than formal word exchanges, but then again, today showed him how little he knew of dwarves. "This is fine and all," Bilbo reasoned, mostly to himself, "but then why isn't he speaking to me? I mean, if he wants me to be his _companion_ , as you put it."

"Well, because you haven't replied to his request!" Fili uttered. "And, actually, in these sort of things people other than the two concerning it shouldn't know, lest they try to persuade the person who received the gift one way or another," to which Kili added, "though in this case I'm glad we do know, or else you'd think that you were being proposed to still." And at that the two brothers laughed and shook their heads. Bilbo scowled.

More seriously, Fili added, "if you accept, keep it, and thank him for it. If not, return the necklace, and say nothing of it ever again."

This put the halfling in a very ominous mood, and he only nodded slightly, his hand wringing his wrist once again.

“You know,” Fili chirped, now all but finished sticking out his chest and maintaining an uncharacteristic scowl. “You should wear flowers in your hair more often, it’s very becoming.” His brow rose humorously, and not before long his failed straight face gave into chuckles. Kili mocked a waving hand, as if to tell him to please, stop the compliments, it’s making me blush, and with the pair of conies in his arms like a flower bouquet he leaned forward with pursed lips. Fili, of course, laughed harder and pushed his dwarven other off the log, who yelped and pulled his brother down with him to wrestle on the forest floor.

Bilbo said a _thank you_ that wasn't heard over a wave of laughter as the brothers hopped about the log before he got up and turned tail. After all, there was nothing much to say other than what had been stated already, and he was quite finished with their childish behavior when he was obviously worried sick. Thankfully, while wandering around with Kili he had a general sense of where to go to make it back into Rivendell. When he did, he went into his room, shut the door, and pressed his forehead against the door frame, head abuzz with messy and loud thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are rabbits tbh. Cute and cuddly bunnies.
> 
> Well, this was updated sooner than I thought it'd be. Enjoy!


	3. An Elf's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though struck with indecision, Bilbo finds resolve in a song that washes over the woods.

By the time evening was beginning to settle in the cleared sky, a distant call of singing voices resonated through the Last Homely House. They wound around the curving halls like water in a sleepy stream, gathering a gentle noise up to Bilbo's ears as he sat on the railing of the terrace in his bedroom. It was a sound somewhere in the valley, within the trees that blanketed the cascading slopes.

Since first returning to his room after having spoken to Fili and Kili, he had assumed a quite different task than gazing at a purple sky. Instead, he took to walking around, sitting on his bed, standing to walk some more, and then took off the chain around his neck to toy with it in his fingers before sighing in defeat. Part of him had actually felt like pulling out a bit of his curled, honeyed hair, but the more sensible Baggins side of him finally stayed him put on the corner of his bed to have a long and unbroken time of thinking. It seemed as if for the weeks his Tookish blood was the majority of what rushed through his veins, pushing him on closer to this dragon and the legendary mountain of song it resided in. But now, whether it was by finally reuniting with the familiar touch of a bed and warm sheets, or the more likely guess of having been told that Thorin had gave him a necklace in the interests of a companionship, and just in case if anything grows, his more respectable side put its foot down and said _enough!_

He inhaled deeply, letting his mess of jumbled thoughts sort themselves if but a little. For some unknown reason, Thorin gave him a token in hopes of obtaining companionship with him. Though Bilbo was still in the unawares of what he'd actually done to deserve it, he was half inclined to accept just for the sake of feeling rather flattered at the implications, if it was not for the rest that came with it. Sure, the dwarven prince had been growing on his mind for many a day during their travels. However, that did not quench the uneasy feeling of wrongness that coincided with it. It was all an unnatural business, really, to think of bedding someone with his same, well, parts.

Bilbo let his face sink into his hands. If only he could just get rid of this ridiculous feeling and accept. But, of course, a decision wouldn't come easily, as since he'd left Bag End they never seemed to anyway. Now he was faced with the prospect of that something else that could come of it, and though his heart wished for it to be so, his mind dreaded it like the wargs that'd chased them into the secret entrance of the Hidden Valley. The conflict grew so steadily in his indecisive mind that the time for afternoon tea trickled by, and the sunlight slanted from the wall of his room and overhead, then back into the other side of the green valley. So, eventually, Bilbo found himself sitting on the railings of his terrace, unwilling to leave his room until he made a decision, as he might run into Thorin once he stepped out of it. The prince at any time could choose to walk down his hall, on his way to some other place in the house. Though that was a very neurotic thought, it still was deemed as entirely plausible in the hobbit's mind.

It seemed as if there wasn't a time before that he wasn't running, though but a few month ago he was sitting in his hobbit hole, reading in his armchair. But at the sound of the soft lilts and faint harps of elvish music, he sprang from his spot on the railing with a solid resolution in his eyes. Maybe Bilbo wasn't a warrior of legend worthy of the promise of the necklace. He was only a hobbit, after all, and had only swung a weapon once in his life, and that was to cut a rope to free four ponies from a wooden enclosure. He was used to well-tilled earth and the smell of eggs and jam over heated toast in the morning. But, he had also grown a fondness for the deep, harsh voice of a stormy-eyed dwarf, as it would sing in his ears forever after he'd heard it in a distant Shire night. In his bed he'd rested that night, eyes refusing to shut under the currents of change and foreign beauty that had fallen over his comfortable home of Bag End. Before his life seemed to have been so plagued by absence of strange and wonderful things, until then.

Feeling that entirely impulsive side of him that'd long since been buried under the passing Shire years rush up in sparks within his bones, Bilbo found his feet flying underneath him. He sped through the doorway and into the otherwise hushed halls, whose feeling of anticipation seemed to wait curiously for the reason as to why this hobbit was sprinting like the wind.

"Excuse me!" the halfling yelped, and flung himself out of the way of a startled elf that he'd not seen before he rounded into another large hall.

"Master Baggins!" Lindir called behind him. "Gandalf is looking for you!"

"Tell him to look for me later!" Bilbo said back, not bothering to look behind as he skidded into another hall that lead to the dining quarters. He didn't even give his stomach a chance to grumble at the intake of tempting scents when he arrived. The distant music of a whistle that he'd heard before was now silenced.

There before him was a small gathering of elves, not at all akin to the appearance of the feasting dwarves he'd joined earlier during the day for lunch. Bilbo halted immediately, and felt himself grow red under the curious glances of wise-eyed others. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Would any of you happen to know where the others are?" He clasped his hands nervously and fumbled with his words, as he'd never before truly spoken to an elf until now, and this was not at all how he pictured his first time exchanging words with the tall, beautiful folk. However, they seemed amused at his heavy breaths and flushed cheeks, and small smiles befell their fair faces.

"I believe that you'll find the rest of your company in the lower mess halls, Bilbo Baggins," one of them replied, and the whistle behind them continued to play.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied politely, and walked out quietly and respectfully after they all turned to their conversations. Maybe it wouldn't be smart to go sprinting through an ancient elvish house lined with relics of old, he decided, a bit sarcastically through the faint embarrassment he still felt. Thus, he backtracked a bit in a fast-paced walk before turning down near the further parts of the house, where the rooms branched into open-air pavilions and the faint rushing of the Falls of Imlardis could be heard. For a moment he hesitated at the archway of the room, feeling a lapping evening breeze against his face. However, what told him that the area was occupied was from hearing the enormous commotion of dwarves, not excluding laughter, crashing, tumbling, and almost obnoxiously loud voices. From that alone, he could guess that Thorin wasn't in their presence, as the prince seemed to like surroundings of ease and peace. Quite like Bilbo himself, actually, but very unlike his dwarven counterparts.

Though the room was big, the group of dwarves had migrated to the very edges of the enclosing fences that cut the structure from the trees outside. However, in the small space, they still seemed beaming and happy to on benches around a blazing fire pit, quite away from the grand table that sat not twenty feet behind them. Bofur was the first to notice the hobbit, and lifted his pipe in greetings. "Well, hello! Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you," Bilbo replied distractedly, as he was looking about the congregation. Seeing that all were present beside Gandalf and Thorin, he added under his breath, _thank Elbereth_. It wouldn't do to have had Thorin see him enter in such a disgruntled appearance, especially with what Bilbo's answer was going to be concerning the necklace. Which, in fact, the hobbit felt he'd regret - his answer, that is - but he paid no mind to the warning in his mind and instead turned to Fili and Kili, who both had assortments of food exploding from their stuffed cheeks. "How do you say yes?" he demanded.

He received two queer stares. It was Kili who responded first after coughing a bit and swallowing his mouthful. "A nod would suffice, I suppose?" he said, more questioningly than firm. However, his answer received a quick nod from Bilbo before the small hobbit ran off once again.

"I wonder what he meant with a question such as that?" Kili wondered through the same mouthful that'd been there before.

Fili shrugged. "I haven't the faintest."

Now, if he'd been at all unhurried, Bilbo may have been able to slip past the great, bearded wizard to finally find Thorin and complete his objective. However, in his fast steps to the prince's bedroom, quite ready to settle this trying ordeal and put everything else buzzing at his mind at rest, he didn't think of quieting his steps, and thus earned the attention of someone smoking against the wall in a uniquely dressed chamber with stairs lining its side. "Bilbo!" he said, and the hobbit halted, impatiently, all but having forgotten what Lindir told him.

"I'd love to talk, but now wouldn't be the best time," he said as politely as possible, and was about to walk off before Gandalf quickly stepped into the doorway and blocked him.

"Really, my good hobbit, when someone wishes to speak with you, it would be mannerly to oblige. Where have you been?" the bearded man scolded.

"Just thinking, is all," Bilbo replied, and tried to look past Gandalf, but the wizard was as stubborn as usual.

In his having looked away from the old man's face, he didn't see the wizard look at the necklace that dangled from the halfling's hand - in fact, Bilbo had hardly noticed that he was holding it before. Then, with what seemed like a spark of mischievous understanding, Gandalf's eyes crinkled in a small smile, and he said, "well, perhaps I could offer a distraction for you. Elrond has invited Thorin and I to Rivendell's council chambers to discuss matters concerning your quest, and there is always a need of people of intelligence in these sort of matters."

"You and Thorin?" was the reply, now completely attentive, if not a bit curious.

Gandalf hummed in affirmation.

Well, that solved that problem. Bilbo shifted, patted his jacket, and crossed his arms, trying to look as neutral as possible. "Well, I suppose I don't have anything better to do," he said with a shrug.

"I thought so," the wizard said with a knowing smile, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

It was only once they got to the council chambers when Gandalf and Bilbo met the grim prince, the royal dwarf's right side flanked by Balin. The hobbit, suddenly inflicted by a flicker of nervousness, felt a bit of his determination crumble. It did so even more when Thorin only reverted his eyes to the halfling once before turning to Gandalf, a hint of a question in his eyes, before they all turned to the mast of the house. "So, we are all here, then," Elrond said, a small smile on his lips as he strode from the moonlight and into the dimmed shadows where the others were. His eyes also wandered to Bilbo, but his thoughts went no further than that, as there was other business to attend to that night.

"Long has been the time since dwarves gathered under my roof, but all the same, you are welcome in my chambers," he said. Bilbo dared a look at Thorin, who merely nodded his thanks and said nothing, as Elrond's manner was not that of one who was finished speaking. "Yesterday it was said that you and your company were traveling the Great East Road." Bilbo, lingering in the back of the congregation, found himself give a small nod of approval. Straight to the point; good. After having been surrounded by dwarves and a riddling wizard for so long, Bilbo thought he was the only one left with such a quality.

"If you and your people have set out with the goal to find quest, or complete one, my own folk may aid you in council before you set off."

Before either of the two dwarves could reply, as undoubtedly their words would have been of refusal, Gandalf stepped closer and said, "you have our thanks, Lord Elrond. Actually, we have found ourselves with a map in our possession; it was drawn by the scribes that served for Durin's line. But alas, it is in Ancient Dwarvish, and I've quite forgotten their letters."

At this point, though Bilbo had a very strong interest in old maps, it was not currently out for his searching eyes, so instead he found himself looking at Thorin. An uncomfortable feeling was once again beginning to fester in him, wondering if this was really how dwarves were, ignoring their perspective companions until they received an answer, but either way, he couldn't bring himself to break his gaze. Thorin had his head tilted down in thought, though his eyes lanced ever forward in their peering at the elven lord before them, and the dim glow of his silver strands of hair almost fascinated the hobbit. His head of shadowed locks was nearly like beholding a night with distant stars, streaking bands of moonshine across its planes.

"Then perhaps I will be able to assist," Elrond said. However, he did hold a curious gleam in his eyes, and added, "what is it that you wish to learn with such a map?" Thorin, however, finally found a slot of silence to speak into.

"Our business is no concern of elves," he replied curtly. Gandalf, however, quickly said, "for goodness sake. Thorin! Show in him the map." Bilbo, still side-eyeing Thorin, found that Balin was staring right back. He had to keep himself from coughing when the old dwarf glanced at Thorin, then back at him, before winking. However, before he could even reply through an expression that remarked  _absolutely not_ , Balin shifted closer to his distant cousin, his face out of eyeshot.

"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets," the prince replied, and he shot Gandalf a glance of warning. However, the wizard did not head it, and instead replied with an exasperated look.

"Safe me from the stubbornness of dwarves," he breathed, as if in disbelief. Bilbo suddenly found himself looking at the floor under the old man's scolding voice, despite the fact that his words weren't even directed to him. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!"

And after a moment's hesitation, and despite Balin's utterance of  _no!_  Thorin withdrew it from his person and held it out to the elf, who in turn took it and held it to the light of the waxing moon. Thus the moon-runes were discovered, capturing the interest of Bilbo immediately. However, at their mention the wizard suggested that they go elsewhere to see the runes more clearly, so off they went, hastily working their way through the halls and into one of the deep corridors of Elrond's house that plunged into the mountain. All the way there Bilbo eagerly kept up, at the back of the group and level to see the swishing of Gandalf's robes afore him. Though he did indeed try to make it to Balin at least, still quite bothered by the wink, it wasn't long before they made it to their destination.

They were taken to the uppermost roosts of the Hidden Valley where they stood betwixt wispy waterfalls and the close shine of the sun's sister. There Elrond strode to the outermost point of the rock, holding the map, and his voice seemed to echo across the valley to the small hobbit. "These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve, by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred hears ago." The map, now all the more magical to Bilbo, was laid out on a stone that seemed reflective of many colors. "It would seem as if you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight."

Gandalf had muttered once that Elrond turned the valley's properties to his liking, whether it was in water or leaf, or sky, so when the gathering looked up at his words moonward the clouds sheathing it drifted, and brilliant light danced over their faces and hit the stone, it seemed as if it had happened just for them. At first Bilbo couldn't help but turn to the others, noting their star-bathed faces, before turning to the map that had become riddled with silver marks.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Elrond read, and Bilbo was torn between staring at the map or admiring the fierce beauty of rays that the stone reflected, like rainbows quivering in the night's cool.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked aloud, as he wasn't a hobbit of retained queries.

The occasion was quickly explained by Gandalf, and the hobbit, quite satisfied with the answer, nodded before turning his attention to Thorin, who held a hand to his beard in thought. "This is ill news. Summer is passing; Durin's day will soon be upon us."

"We still have time," Balin interjected, and Bilbo couldn't help but yet again asked a question: "Time? For what?"

"Time to find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time; then, and only then, can the door be opened." The greyed dwarf's voice was mainly directed at Thorin, but just from looking at the elf's face, Bilbo could tell that Elrond didn't seem pleased with the revelation of their purpose. However, as quickly as he voiced his objection to the prince, and the prince challenged back with  _"what of it"_ , a strange exchange of words between Elrond and Gandalf took place before the elven lord strode from the rock back into the rock. Balin also moved, and he shifted to Thorin and muttered words in the younger dwarf's ear to earn a curt nod before leaving as well. Soon it was only Bilbo, the grim prince, and Gandalf, who looked rather troubled and distant as he stood at the side of the rock and looked on.

"Hello," Bilbo said, quite dimly, and instantly regretted the lame greeting. Already a festering nervousness was bubbling within him, asking him if he should really accept and get him into all of this dwarvish business.

Much to the hobbit's surprise, Thorin seemed taken off guard by his small voice, and his gaze snapped to him before settling. Then, after what seemed like a moment of conflict of how to respond, he nodded in acknowledgment, and reverted his eyes back onto the map that sat on the stone.

Even under the moon of a night of spotted clouds, the dwarf's steel mail seemed to glitter as if the many stars in heaven's vaults were shining in its scales. His tunic of velvet, midnight blue ebbed dimly about his long, furred cloak, and the tufts in the pelt that sat about his broad shoulders ruffled about in the breeze. If it were not for those small movements, his cape slightly twisting, his long locks ever shifting, the very sight of a pair of stormy eyes that caused a commotion in Bilbo's chest, he'd have thought that the dwarf was a forgotten statue of old watching over the valley and keeping its secrets.

A last determined pull tugged at the hobbit, so alas, after a short time of hesitant silence, he cleared his throat and moved closer to Thorin and the glowing stone. The dwarf looked up yet again, expression unreadable, and he said, "yes, Master Baggins?"

"Bilbo," he said. "No need for formalities." Bilbo tried a faint smile to be kind, but the dwarf shifted and crossed his arms expectantly, so the hobbit did the only thing he could think of. He nodded. And, as a matter of fact, when Thorin tilted his head questioningly, poor Mister Baggins nodded again, and again when the dwarf finally raised his brow in a bout of bewilderment. In fact, after this ridiculous exchange of desperation on Bilbo's part (as at this point words were quite beyond him), and confusion on Thorin's continued, the dwarf finally looked to the brooding wizard and said, "Gandalf, I think that there is something wrong with your hobbit."

To this, Bilbo of course grew very red in the face, and began shaking his head in disagreement. "No! What I meant to say is that, I mean, I asked Fili and Ki-"

Before he could even finish, Gandalf had came and gripped on the hobbit's shoulder more tightly than needed. "It is rather late, and the moon is high in the sky, is what he means to say," the wizard said, and Bilbo shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, but he was lead by a persistant arm out from atop the rock. "Rest well, Thorin Oakenshield, and return soon to your chambers! Here the wind tends to become something fierce, and it lashes the water about," he added, calling back to the dwarf who Bilbo could no longer see, as he was being rushed away.

Only when they made it into the confines of the torch-lit stairway did Gandalf release Bilbo's shirt, leaving him free to spin around and gaze up frustratedly at the wizard. "Now what was that for?"

"It seemed like you needed help out of that," and the wizard paused to think of the right words, before finishing, "uncomfortable predicament."

"I think I could have dealt well with it myself, thank you! If I ever find myself in an 'uncomfortable predicament' that doesn't require me alone to deal with it, then I will certainly call for you. Now, 'the moon is high in the sky', and so it's high time for getting to bed, so good-night." With that he tried to push past the taller other, but he was quickly blocked.

"Bilbo, I would have you not speak of the necklace." The hobbit looked up, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness of Gandalf's voice. "Not until a certain amount of things are," and with a dark hum, "resolved."

"Things such as what?" Bilbo asked, and he couldn't help but lose hold of some of his anger, though he felt like he should rightfully maintain at least a bit.

"I think I'll have a last look at that map," was all that was replied. "I shall see you tomorrow. Be expecting an early wake." And with that he left, and Bilbo, disgruntled and rather annoyed with this whole business, as he only wanted it finished, began making his way down the long stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know that I wrote a scene that everyone already saw in the movie, but that fucking glowing stone made me want to barf rainbows it was so awesome. I had to add it. I'm sorry.
> 
> Omg btw the person that commented in concurrence of the barfing rainbows, I pressed delete after reading your comment in my inbox (it was really lovely btw) but it deleted the comment instead of just removing it from my inbox, I'm really sorry. I hope you're reading this because fjadsklgd I'm sorry.
> 
> Tbh I still have no fucking clue how to use AO3, so that's fun.


	4. A Halfling's Parry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is given his first lesson in sword fighting, and after meets an unlikely friend.

Again for the second time since their stay, Bilbo opened his eyes under the light of the morning sun and stretched in its warmth. Unlike his last rise of the prior day, in which a hatted old man had drawn him from slumber, he found himself stirring at quite the decent time and thus didn't need to be coaxed out of doing otherwise. Instead he slipped out of his sheets and watched the bit of valley from his terrace window to rid his eyes of any lingering hints of night-spell, and after let out one last yawn before dressing into fresh clothes. It wasn't long before Bilbo had exited his bedchamber and found himself wandering into the lower mess halls where the dwarves had been the night before, as the hobbit was more than ready for breakfast.

Entering through the archway, he was surprised at the cool morning light that entered the vivacity, as when he'd been in the room last it was bathed in black save for the area around the fire pit where the company had sat. However, it was refreshing, and Gandalf spotted him and seated him at the long table that hosted a somewhat diminished troop of dwarves. Only Bifur, Bombur, Nori, Ori and Dori sat at its chairs, but they were nonetheless merry as they passed about the platters and said their good-mornings to the halfling

"Good-morning!" was what he replied, and he continued to toss biscuits and ham onto his plate. "Where is everybody?"

Ori was the first to reply, as he didn't have a glass or mouthful of food to speak through, and rather was quite occupied at the table by pencil and journal. "Well, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin are in the courtyard to settle a bet," he began in his slight voice, the end tip of his pen tapping at his mouth in thought. "I'm not quite sure where Fili and Kili are," he admitted, and Bilbo figured that he knew what the answer was, judging from what activities they'd been up to in the woods yesterday. Bilbo then saw Ori furrow his eyebrows in thought, his youthful face pressed into a pondering expression, but only a moment after, Gandalf, who was at the head of the table, answered.

"Balin and Thorin are at the training grounds. Where you, Nori, and I are headed to after we've eaten, actually." Bilbo nearly jumped at the prospect, and was about to politely decline before Ori, whose pen was still tapping, said, "and where's Bofur?"

"I'd be here!" a voice said, and the table turned to the fire pit, which seated Bofur near its dying embers. He lifted a glass to them in greetings, and clutched onto a plate in his other hand. Bilbo grabbed at his own cup and raised it back before taking a sip, letting the sweet elvish spirits wash over his tongue. Maybe learning a few tricks with a blade wouldn't be such a bad idea, especially remembering the predicament they'd faced with the trolls, not to mention the wargs and orcs. At the thought of such nasty creatures, his sensible thought instantly fled once again.

"Actually, I was thinking of going to the library to see if there are any books in the Common tongue, but thank you, I-" Bilbo was shocked into silence by Bifur, who suddenly reared and banged a fist against the table, which shook all of the dishes and glasses, while spewing out foreign words of a harsh tongue. Gandalf, however, barely had even moved an eye over to the dwarf, and rather let Bombur soothe his brother so that he could stare at Bilbo under bushy eyebrows.

"I think it would benefit you in the long run to take this advantage, Bilbo," he said in a voice that allowed no question, so Bilbo only mumbled his surrender and bit into his biscuit.

It wasn't long before he, Nori and Gandalf took leave from the table and exited Elrond's house to go further into Rivendell, with Ori trailing behind his older brother and continuing to scribble away in his journal. More elves than Bilbo ever could have imagined being in one place suddenly were, whether they were walking about the stone paths, or talking in their fluid tongues afore banner-marked markets, and others who still wore travel wear as they passed through the entrances and made way to attend other things of importance. Here and there were even those who the hobbit figured as men, as they weren't at all in speech or appearance like the elves they were visiting, though they by all means appeared as nobel men of the north. For being titled as a hidden valley, for once it didn't seem so hidden at all, because under the bright morning sky Rivendell seemed lively and full of color and noise, and many folk gathered about its buildings.

"Seeing as you have that sword, it would be best to start with blades, which is why Nori is here," Gandalf explained as they walked, nodding here and there to others who raised hands at him and smiled - some even bowed, but Bilbo hardly took notice to those who did, as he was still concerned about this training business. "He'll be able to train you well enough to hold your own, on more things than fighting as well."

Bilbo raised his brow, wondering what the wizard meant, and peered at the tall-haired dwarf who was moving something light and shining in his hands before it slipped into his pocket. Ori, however, picked up on what Gandalf had meant and was quick to say, "he could walk unnoticed into a room filled with a hundred wargs!" To which Nori looked back at his younger brother in a sharp glance and Ori flushed at his having interrupted before diving back into his journal. Gandalf coughed and continued.

"Archers were once not so rare to find in the early days of the Shire - hobbits did well in fletching, and took quite a liking to archery, as it was quite easier to shoot from a distance at the wolves that would come down from the north on particularly cold winters." He then blinked, catching himself before going further from the topic that they were on before (though Bilbo couldn't help but find himself listening in interest to the bit of Shire history, despite already having been taught it). "Anyhow, that route of weaponry is a long path of training, and though handling a sword is no less than such, it has an easier start."

Not much later after the words left his mouth, they rounded a tall stone fence that went clear above Gandalf's head and were dumped off the river of their path into a grassy area, roofed at its outskirts by long-branched trees. Its open-skied areas were occupied by a fair amount of armed others who sparred and shot at far-off targets, the marks drawing attention by royal blue ribbons bound tightly against their wooden posts. Many who were there, as Bilbo realized after taking a closer look around after they walked closer, were men, most rugged in appearance and wielding strength and skill in their arm. "Rangers," the wizard explained, and said nothing more as he cut across the grounds and make his way to two dwarves that spoke to each other in muted tongues under bow twangs and steel hitting steel.

Bilbo, seeing as how the night before had gone, was half inclined to not follow the grey wanderer at all, and rather go on about training with Nori. But, for the first time since they arrived at Rivendell, Thorin let his eyes skip past Gandalf to land on the hobbit. And there they remained. So, of course the halfling followed the wizard to the foot of the sitting stone where Balin and Thorin idly rested, and under such a strong gaze found himself pulling his lips up nervously in greeting and wiggling his fingers in hello.  
  
"I take it that you rested well?" the prince said, and Bilbo nodded. Of course, it was a curt one, and he continued on to say, "yes thank you."

Bilbo found himself be studied a moment longer before the pair of eyes shifted to Gandalf. "And how fares your search, Master Wizard?"

"It has been fruitless," was the reply, and the hobbit found himself shift, wondering if he should leave their company. However, Nori and Ori were chatting behind them, not at all seeming ready to assist in helping Bilbo wield a blade, and he found himself stayed by the blue gaze that would occasionally flicker his way. "However, I have no doubts that it will turn up eventually."

"Perhaps." Thorin's lips parted in an intake of breath, and Bilbo didn't realize he was staring until Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder, and Nori called, "are we ready then?"  
  
"Quite ready," he replied, mostly to himself, and spared Thorin and Balin a last glance before turning and making his way towards the ginger dwarf. On their way he'd been handed his sword, so Bilbo drew it from its sheath and stood before Nori, now feeling more determined than unsure with steel in hand. What he thought to be the curious eyes of Thorin searing into the back of his head didn't help settle his nerves, but by all the jam in the Shire him he was at least going to try. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ori move over to one of the one of the armory tents, topped by polls that carried whipping crimson flags in the wind, before the dwarf began to form long strokes in his journal.

"Positioning first, Bilbo," Nori said, and he reached behind his leg, put his hand in his boot, and withdrew it with a blade in palm. Then, his other arm angled down, and his wrist flicked, allowing another hidden dagger to slide out from under his sleeve. Curved weapons wielded, he placed his feet in a way where they had good spacing from one another, and he pivoted before taking to instruction. "You'll want to grasp your blade likewise-" he held up the first weapon he'd drawn, showing how its blade rose up, contrary to his other dagger which was held down so that its pommel nested easily in the webbing between his pointer and thumb "-and stand loosely, so that you may move side to side easily."  
  
Realizing that he was holding his sword with two hands, Bilbo moved its hilt into his right and tried to stand as Nori did until he felt comfortable and confident that he could spring on either side, as the position suggested.

"Good," the dwarf said, and then raised his knives. "Now, come at me."

For a moment the hobbit hesitated, weighing the heavy sword in his hand, before slowly edging around Nori. He then stole a glance across the clearing to another pair who were engaged, their steel flashing in the morning sun. _Alright Bilbo,_ he thought to himself. _Just make sure that it doesn't get knocked from your hand, and you should be fine._ With that thought, he advanced, and lifted his sword to find another meet it.

"Take care in making sure that your first sword fall doesn't leave you open everywhere else." The blade in Nori's hand slid from Bilbo's sword and slashed the free air near the hobbit's chest, causing him to jump. "Again."

By the time that Bilbo managed to keep up for several minutes without meeting what would have been his death in a real battle, the sun was high in the sky, and both his and Nori's cheeks were reddened under its scours. However, the whistling in the trees that fluttered into the grassy training ground was enough to keep him from being uncomfortably warm. Nori, ever the persistent teacher, told the halfling to switch sword arms whenever his right became wearied between telling him to _fix this, don't do that,_ and _what do you think you're doing?_ Eventually another blade was placed into his hands, and he was taught to block with one and swing with his elvish other, which was exceedingly more difficult. Keeping track of the dwarf's quick blades was hard enough, and the challenge grew twofold when Bilbo found himself moving across the ground, fending off the attacks and trying at his own swings when he could manage them.

"Are you sure that Nori is the best instructor for such a course? Those stances are for rogues, and two blades isn't wise for someone who cannot wield one," Thorin murmured to Gandalf, out of earshot from the sparring pair. He, the wizard, and Balin were still under the cover of the trees at the sitting stone, where they'd been resting and discussing matters concerning the finer details of their planned trip across the mountains, such as what paths to take. However, the dwarf of Durin's line had found himself gazing at the two fighting here and there, and though the hobbit was quite obviously soft in arm, he made up for it in sure-footed steps and rapid blocks and swings.

Bilbo, however, didn't quite realize that he was doing well, as Nori seemed quite at ease and wore the expression of one who was bored. So, now fully tiring and ready to lay his arms at his sides in rest, he ducked under a swing, bounced to the side with the help of Nori's suggestion of widened feet, and kicked up a cloud of dirt into the dwarf's face once enough was sitting under his heels. Having gained a moment of time, and rather pleased at his successful (if not unfair) tactic, his quiet feet then took him around to the dwarf's back, which was where he placed the point of his sword.

To his surprise, a deep dwarven laugh rumbled from the depths of Nori's chest, and he turned and patted the dirt from his clothes. "Now, lad, that's what fighting is all about." And to that, Bilbo saw Thorin smirk in amusement from afar, quite in spite of himself, and it welled a feeling of accomplishment in the hobbit's chest. "That'll be all for today." With that, the dwarf walked back to Gandalf, who in turn tossed a bag of coin into his palm, before making leave out of the training ground.

Feeling rather satisfied, and suddenly realizing that the soreness in his arms weren't so bad (whether by having drawn a smile from Thorin's lips or simply having won the bout, Bilbo didn't know, nor care), he stabbed the air a few times, practice his swings, and was smiling smugly while doing so. Then, after sheathing his sword, he walked to those under the shade and nearly beamed under Gandalf's praise of, "a very good job, you're going along quite well!"

"Thank you," Bilbo replied earnestly, for he'd heard the clatter of coin in that purse, and wasn't one to excuse himself from thanks when they were meant to be given.

Now, he hadn't expected any more words to be said on the matter, but much to his surprised Thorin added, "good for a beginner." To have said that the words were completely kind would be a lie, as Bilbo found hear a bit of sarcasm in the dwarf's voice, to which he found himself frown.

"Well, I can't say that I'm not a beginner," the halfling admitted, and his tone was a bit challenging. However, the prince looked very calm, and added, "better than most hobbits, I'd suppose."

This confused Bilbo. Unsure as to whether he was being complimented or looked down on under the nose of a high-and-mighty dwarf, he only huffed, and muttered a, "well, thank you," before kidding farewell. The coolness of the necklace around his neck suddenly became irritatingly obvious, so as he passed through the entrance path to the training grounds, and not really bothered anymore about keeping up appearances as he was already sweaty and his clothes smeared with dirt, he undid the new buttons near his collar and moved the chain around. It was then when his fingers were moving the links about when he heard a young voice behind him.

"Hello!"

The voice was youthful, and as Bilbo soon found when he spun, the person who belonged to it was equally as young. A boy, near his height but smaller in frame, stood before him. A human as well he figured, for he'd yet to have seen an elven child, and this youth's manner seemed to differ from the higher folk. However, there was an air of wisdom in the boy's grey eyes, and his face, though untouched by age, held a sort of nobility that struck Bilbo instantly. The stranger's clothes were that of elvish make, and not of a common elf either, but more akin in material to the rich and gossamer robes that Elrond wore, as they were deep in color and mingled with the sunshine. "I saw your fighting - you did well." Then, with a humorous glint in his eye, "for a beginner, at least."

Contrary to what was common belief in Hobbiton, as Bilbo had never shown any signs of wanting to up and start a family, he quite liked children. So, it was only natural for him to be rather amused at this one's comical manner, and he replied, "so I've heard," in a way that wasn't at all unfriendly. "Now, what'd be your name?"

"Estel," he said. "And what would your name be, short sir?" Estel's voice, though he wasn't and elf, held a sort of elvish sing-song lilt. To anyone else Bilbo would have frowned at being called a short sir, but the hobbit instead bowed a bit and answered, "Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

"The Shire?"

"Yes - past Bree, bordered west by the Blue Mountains. Have you heard of it?"

Estel studied the ground for a long moment, face drawn thoughtfully, before shaking his head.

"Have you got anywhere to be?" the halfling inquired.

"No, I haven't," and there was a sudden kindle of curiosity that sprung into the boy's eyes.

Thus, Bilbo, excited himself at the prospect of talking about his beloved home to someone who hadn't heard its name, took Estel back to the markets where there were plenty of free barrels and boxes to sit on behind the stands, and there they sat talking for a long while after the boy bought them both sweetbread to share. The market banners in the wind stretch their shadows over the ground, and the dark form of their reflected cool upon the stones moved until the sun was further across the sky. The before cloudless sky began bringing clouds from the western planes of Rhudaur, and they freckled the sky like light pipe smoke across a water-like blue. Elves with bows at their backs eventually began dropping off their caught bounty from the woods, and baskets of fruits and other greens are passed from hand to hand in purchase for the last meal of the day.

The boy and hobbit talked about many things - mostly of the Shire, which Bilbo had begun discussing by saying, "well, the Shire isn't half of what Elrond's valley is. No grand songs visit it, nor do epics or tales of great deeds. Rather, it is a country of simple people, and they live in the green hills that have farms sparkle in morning dew at the sun's first rise - and peace and quiet is the commodity of most value there, so it is fortunate that we happen to have the two more than anything else." At that first description he smiled distantly, quite already under the magic of nostalgia and a dreadful cloud of homesickness, but he quickly continued. At seeing that Estel was an incredibly attentive listener, he awarded his new friend with stories that began falling back into the early days of the Shire, when hobbits still had dealings with the old kingdoms, and wolves came down from the north, when the world was still a place that involved more than churning the earth, walking down the markets of Hobbiton which were much different from the one they sat in now, and watching the sun settle over the water before it sprang up behind the hill the next day.

Then after, their conversation fled into more recent things, such as Bilbo's encounter with the trolls, to which his voice was lively in telling, and happiness bubbled up within him at Estel's laughter when he got to the part when he was used as a handkerchief. Also, Estel talked of himself: of his foster-father Elrond and his mother Gilraen, _the Fair,_ as Estel stated proudly, and on that note Bilbo looked up from the young man's face and saw how the day had withered by in no time at all.

"I doubt that your mother would appreciate me keeping you for any longer," Bilbo said, and he found that he was disappointed in this as much as Estel was, as the child's face had settled into a small pout. The boy even went as far as to protest, but the hobbit waved his hand, helped his other off the wooden crate he sat on, and smiled. "You are a fine young man, my Estel, and it was a pleasure meeting you." Then he stuck a hand out, and the other shook it, not without hesitance.

"How long will you be visiting, Mister Baggins?" Estel asked, and Bilbo scratched his head, not quite knowing himself. "Perhaps your dwarven friends will teach you to wield a blade, but if you'd allow it, I could give you instruction in Sindarin, as it is a useful tongue, especially if you are to travel as far as the Great Greenwood." To this the halfling's eyes lit up, as he always thought of the language of the fair folk as beautiful, so he accepted with gratitude and they parted ways, Estel further into the shops to run errands for his mother that he should have attended to sooner, and Bilbo back to Elrond's home, his step quick under order from a complaining stomach.

When he got to the lower mess hall, all of the dwarves were already present, this time including Thorin. Bilbo felt strange under the prince's now inquisitive stare, and it didn't break from him even after he settled at a spot near Balin on a bench near the fire and began to eat, too hungry to converse with the others. The fire was still burning steadily after all of the others - besides Bilbo, of course, who had come late, and Bombur, who caught assortments of food that Bofur threw at his mouth - finished eating, and they took to talking and plucking or blowing into their dwarvish instruments. It wasn't at all like the somber song he'd heard so long ago, but rather a mixed blend of different melodies from different couples of people that somehow managed to blend in a sound of merriment that would be fitting in a mead hall.

All the while up from Bilbo's plate he'd look, at Thorin, to find that he was being stared at, though the prince would quickly revert his gaze elsewhere after being discovered time and time again. It was a rather uncomfortable business, really, and not before long the dark-haired dwarf excused himself, and after waiting a short while for the sake of not running into the other, Bilbo did as well to retire to his bed.

Little did he expect Thorin to he waiting for him, leaned on a wall that sided his door. Bilbo, realizing that he wasn't yet noticed from having such quiet feet, half thought of returning back to the rest of the company, but he was tired and sore and wanted nothing more than to enter his washroom, clean his face and feet, and then go to bed for. With that conviction in mind, he tried his best to walk normally to his door, and when he reached it and Thorin grew aware of his presence and stirred, Bilbo said in an attempt at normalcy, as if the dwarf was always waiting for him at his door, "hullo! - could I help you?"

"Yes, actually," the taller other said, and Bilbo was stricken with sudden confusion under such a heavy gaze and dark voice. Thorin stood up off the wall, and in his full high looked down upon the hobbit. "I think you could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the sexual tension begins.
> 
> bilbo gun get boned yall


	5. A Late Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unwelcome confrontation finds Bilbo in his bedchambers, shoving forth the beginning of the search.

In all of the threat that Thorin carried, Bilbo found himself backing away as soon as his chamber door was opened. The prince advanced, eyes lit and tempestuous as their normal manner dictated. That was not to say, however, that the rest of his manner was carried in a casual way as well; the poor hobbit found himself across the room in a matter of seconds under the advance of a suddenly angered dwarf.  
  
"I would not have had you on this quest," the deep, dark voice said, its words bathed in warning, "but by some ill fortune you've come. If you thought to prove your worth, you were wrong in doing it in such a manner. Give me what is mine, _now_ , and you may yet leave Rivendell without your thieving hands cut from your stubby arms." His very frame rose and filled the halfling's vision, like a gathering of gray clouds rising over a dimming sky. "And if you are some spy of elves and took it for their hands, by my father I will end you where you stand."

For a moment Bilbo was equally bewildered as frightened out of his wits, and his quaking hands found a wall behind him to rest on. Thorin was yet again not a mouse's tail away from his face, hand where his sword hilt should have been if it hadn't been removed, and brow pinched in an enraged way. However, it was only a moment, and quite to the hobbit's own surprise - not to say that it wasn greater than the dwarf's, who seemed to nearly jump - he snapped his fingers under the prince's nose and grunted rudely.

"What on earth gives you the right to come barging into my bedchambers, accusing me of something that I haven't the faintest clue about?" Bilbo said hotly, and suddenly Thorin wasn't suffocatingly close anymore, as his own angered heat rose within him. "I've nearly had it up to here with dwarves," and he swung his arm across, not at all measuring his annoyance, but getting the point across just as well. "Is this some other little addition that Kili and Fili hadn't bothered mentioned to me, that I shall be intruded upon and threatened? No, no, that will  _not_  do, because though you dwarves may mark this at charm - I really have no idea what it is! - it is not charming to me, in the least, so if you'd please, get out of my room."

By the time that he'd finished talking, somehow, through his tangent and moving arms and suddenly reddened face, they reached the door once again, Thorin backing up now with an expression on his face that could only be read as terribly flustered, or confused, or upset, even. However, Bilbo's hand that gestured to his chamber's entryway was clear enough an ending to the conversation. What the hobbit had forgotten in his agitation, however, was the necklace, so Thorin finally gathered enough of his bearings to say, "what are you talking about?"

"What do you mean 'what are you talking about', you gave it to me," Bilbo said. "If you want it back then by all means take it. I was going to say yes, but now I believe that I've changed my mind, seeing what manners you have."

For a moment it seemed as if Thorin was at a loss for words - which before would have been deemed impossible by the hobbit, as if there was anything that Thorin was full of (besides rubbish, so Bilbo thought at this point) it would have been words - but he quickly flared up again. "Do not take me for a fool, thief! Since I first knew it was gone I knew that you had something to do with it. Do not think that I'd leave your attendance at the map reading unmarked, nor your disappearance that very morning, when it was taken from me. And you were gone the entire day after sparring - to take counsel in those you hold allegiance to, no doubt, with those elves." He nearly spat the word in disgust.

Bilbo, much too hot with anger to notice the obvious danger that the dwarf before him could pose, laughed highly. "I cannot, I simply cannot, believe this." His fingers leaped up to the nape of his neck, and there they unclasped the golden necklace, reached for Thorin's hand, and placed the chain in the dwarf's warmed palm. "You know what? Take it back, along with all of your, your, tomatoes, and proposals, and companionships and so called _interest in my person_ , and good riddance! It's no wonder that you've never asked for someone before; I'd reckon that no one has ever suffered you long enough for you to do so!"

If the dwarf had not been shaken by this whole ordeal, he quite obviously was then by show of his mouth opening, then shutting, then parting to take in a sharp breath. Soon, the unsteady response came from Thorin as the he stared at the chain in his palm: "Where is the key?"

"What key?" Bilbo snapped, and Thorin answered, " _my_  key, the key to the door!"

They both visibly startled at the sound of someone pounding against the wall. "Keep it down, and let an old dwarf sleep! One would think that the pair of you already said yer marriage vows, going on like that!" yelled Oin's voice.

The pair of them did indeed fall silent, half because of Oin's words which caused them to redden through already rosy shades, and partly from simply studying each other and the necklace in Thorin's hand, as if examining would reveal the answer to what was going on. "Where did you come by this, pray tell," the dwarf finally said, his voice considerably lower but just as suspicious.

"It was on my bed the night we came. In this box-" and Bilbo scuttered to a chest that fronted the foot of his bed and drew the elvish box. Then he brought it to Thorin, whose eyes seemed to kindle in recognition: "those were the soapboxes in the bathhouse."

"Were they?" Bilbo mused. He was in too much of a hurry to notice, therefore use, soaps of any sort. However, his annoyance had barely faded, so his curious tone was quickly discarded. "What has it got to do with anything?"

Thorin gave him a brief look before opening the box, looking inside, and then closing it to look at it from every which angle. The hobbit crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his elbow. Purely occupied in his looking, the dwarf then made a low thoughtful noise and fingered the chain in his hands, watching the golden stars spring up on the cool metal. "Well?" Bilbo pressed.

"What proof do you have to show me that what you say is true?" the prince asked, and the hobbit couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. There was none, really, but it _was_ true, and he knew it. Then, he raised his pointer.

"Oh - Gandalf, Gandalf knows! You see, I told him the next morning after I got it, he came to wake me up since it was lunchtime and I'd slept through breakfast," which cleared up that space of time that Thorin was questioning, "and afterwards others were claiming that you'd gave it to me, so I don't see how they'd have known about it at all if I'd taken it from you myself, seeing as how I wasn't waving it around."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Thorin demanded, and for some reason or another he was flustered again - probably from the mention of the others mentioned, remembering what Fili and Kili had said about it being proper to not peak of companionship offers if they take place.

Bilbo then shrugged. "He only told me to tell you nothing of it."

Thorin muttered something about meddlesome wizards, and the angered look on his face was beginning to etch its creases into his brow until Bilbo quickly added, "probably to keep misunderstandings from happening," eager to protect the grey wanderer from Thorin's frustration. Now that he thought about it that most likely was the reason, and the halfling caught himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Either way, misunderstanding would have happened, as portrayed this night. However, the dwarf did not share his jesting mood.

"What of that boy, then, in the market? What council was held between you and he?" Thorin said, again accusing, but now his tone was more unsure. "It was where I saw this chain, hung about your neck before you buttoned your shirt."

"You were watching me?" Bilbo breathed, and he grew annoyed again. For all the suspicion of dwarves! He was surprised that they all didn't die of it: how fully the emotion seemed to fester in them. "I'll have you know, that boy hasn't got anything to do with this. He was curious to hear about the Shire, is all."

"The Shire," Thorin grunted. However, he said nothing more on that subject, and only looked at Bilbo with pointed accusation, though the halfling half felt that this time it had nothing to do with the necklace or key. Then, slowly, the prince's gripping gaze lessened into simply studying, before crossing his arms and resting a hand on his beard in thought. "Who else knows of the necklace?"

Bilbo let out a faint breath of relief, one that he didn't know he held in. Finally, this dwarf seemed to be regaining some sense. Then he winced his eyes, trying to stretch his memory back. "Kili, Fili, Bofur, and, well, Balin, I believe, though I can't be sure."

Thorin made a noise of acknowledgement. "Those are the only ones?"

The hobbit nodded. The prince, on the other hand, only drew in a slight breath and continued to stare until Bilbo felt nearly uncomfortable. "It's a bit late," he said lamely. "Is there anything else?"

"I can see that I've made a mistake, Master Baggins," Thorin finally said, his voice more hushed than before, and his eyes were removed from Bilbo's and rather lingered at the necklace in his palm. Then with his other hand, he took Bilbo's own and pressed the chain into it. "Take it. As a gift, nothing more." A faint smile was offered, and Bilbo, all too aware that his hand wasn't let go, only again nodded and swallowed thickly. Suddenly it was impossible to think clearly under the deep blue in the other's gaze, the warm fingers that touched his hand, like the fair heat of sunlight melting over his skin. 

He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

Thorin's gaze shifted back to the floor, as if only then realizing the tense anticipation in the air, like the whole house held it's breath. His hand dropped, and Bilbo almost frowned at the loss. "Sleep well, Master Baggins."

"You as well," Bilbo replied, and he opened his door and let the dwarf pass through. Only when the other was a few steps away down the hall did he dare add, "Bilbo is fine."

"Pardon?" Thorin asked, turning.

"No need to be formal, I mean. Bilbo will do."

For the umpteenth time that night, the hobbit found himself being regarded, but this time he found that another slight smile lingered as well. "Very well, Bilbo. Good-night."

"Good-night," Baggins replied, and he shut the door, tried to stay his beating heart, and then continued on to wash his face and dress in sleeping linens for bed with the chain around his neck. 

That night he ended up dreaming of strange things, most likely a result from his frazzled mind. He was standing atop a sloping hill that basked in nightly shadows, and strands of grass freckled its surface as whipping red flames, not spreading but only dancing in a slight wind. A familiar sword was belted to his side, and a necklace strung about his neck, but all else that he wore were of the likes that he'd never seen - gilded armor, light and shining like the silver half-moon above, and over its plates a burning glaze that the chain held as it hung golden like fire melting snow.

Down below his gaze stretched, and slipping about the distant tree trunks were shapes of warg riders and a cart wheeled by rabbits. He drew his sword - how long it seemed then, nothing like and elvish dagger but more akin to the sword of a king, and Bilbo found himself staring into its steel, gazing at its humming blue marks, until the sky turned over to dawn.

* * *

One would have thought that having cleared up the misunderstanding would have made the while situation more clear, but as Bilbo found the next morning, once again at his terrace and looking out thoughtfully at the valley, it only proposed more questions. If Thorin had not given him the necklace, than who had? - and how did the others find out about it? At first he reasoned that the other dwarves might have taken it and given it to him instead, but that didn't make sense in the slightest, as he knew them all better than to think of them as thieving people. And what good would it do to give Bilbo Thorin's things, anyway?

Thankfully, that day Bilbo didn't miss any meals, as for the most part he lingered indoors - especially in the library. The shelves were filled with old tomes and scrolls, and at the side of the room a staircase flanked the wall, leading up to the upper space that held more such things in its confines.

It pleased him when he found several scripts in the Common Tongue, most concerning history and the lineage of the early Northern men and those of Gondor starting from the Second Age. However, after a moment of settling down and shuffling through the text, he quickly found himself wanting something else other than books on the past of humans, and averted to passages concerning the elves of Gondolin, as his curiosity still lingered from the mention of the city at Elrond's table during their first dinner. Of course, the race of men seemed to seep into the prose once more, and curious tales surrounding Gondolin's time under a dark shadow began to spring up quite unexplained and out of the blue. Before he could think of retrieving another text to explain these strangeties a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I didn't think it'd be long before you found you way here," and Bilbo looked up at the wizard.

"Oh?"

A set of eyes under bushy eyebrows narrowed at the hobbit, who only continued to move about the scrolls before him. "Is something the matter?" Bilbo hummed and shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but Gandalf grumbled and pressed, "though a wizard I may be, I cannot read minds."

"Thorin can't either, but he found out," and the old man let out a small _ah_. "So that was what you two were talking about finding in the training grounds. Gandalf, I wish that you would have told me, and a huge misunderstanding could have been avoided."

"It would have happened anyway, I'm afraid," the wizard said distractedly, now moving about the papers on the study table. "Haudh-en-Ndengin," he read aloud, and his face was suddenly cast in shadow.

"Well, either way, maybe he wouldn't have been so aggressive if the whole matter was dealt with earlier." The hobbit then shifted his eyes over to the certain piece of text that Gandalf looked at. "Gruesome business, that," he remarked offhandedly, and then leaned back in the carved chair, returning back to the topic of the key. "I honestly think that the thing was misplaced."

"As what I thought," the taller other said, and he put down the scroll and visibly brightened. "I am sorry for not telling you, but I wanted no problems to come of it. Actually, I thought that it would have been found by now. You've heard or seen nothing of it, then?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, and I haven't the faintest clue what could have happened. And yet, some of the others knew about the necklace without having been told by me!" At being asked who those others were, the halfling listed the names, and the wizard wrung his staff.

"Maybe the wisest course would be to ask them where they heard of it, then," he said, and nodded at Bilbo's voiced agreement. Then, with a sudden curious spark in his eye, he added, "and what of the necklace?"

Bilbo suddenly felt himself flush at the question. It had been given to him as a gift, 'nothing more', but there was something last night in Thorin's stare, and the way that his hand lingered, that made the hobbit want to think otherwise. Or perhaps it was only his imagination reaching at unraveling, loose strings, wishing to believe something that was completely untrue. However, he felt very much like the chain bore a weight more than that of a gift that needed not be given, but one that held deeper meanings concealed in its links. 

"He let me keep it," he said casually, as if it was normal for princes to give him their few remaining pieces of gold, and he quickly leaned forward to gather some papers from the desk. Then, careful to not knock down the books that he'd stacked on the seat of the chair, Bilbo slipped down and padded to the shelves with heavy tomes in hand, meaning to put them back. Of course, Gandalf followed.

"Did he?" the old man said, and Bilbo answered, "yes, yes he did. As a gift."

"As a gift," the wizard echoed, and the halfling shoved a book into place before turning expectantly.

"Yes, that's right." The old man was smiling, and it was an expression that Bilbo wasn't particularly fond of at the moment, as it gleamed with knowing. "Please don't you go on about all of that dwarvish business as well, I've heard enough on it. Actually! You knew!" He'd nearly forgot - Gandalf knew what it meant this whole time! "And you didn't say a word!"

Gandalf hummed and dropped a hand to pass over his beard. "I didn't?"

"You certainly did not!"

"Ah, well, what's past is past, Bilbo," and the halfling grunted. "However, the present demands attention. If you could, my dear hobbit, it would be very helpful if you could ask the dwarves that know where they found out. Then maybe we'll recover the key and put Thorin's mind at ease."

"Here, here," Bilbo agreed, his mind having fetched the memory of Thorin's dark, imposing figure in his bedchamber. "I suppose I could ask around, then."

"That's a good lad," Gandalf said, and his hand ruffled over Bilbo's hair, much to the hobbit's annoyance. "I shall see you at dinner then."

The sunlight had only shifted slightly on the floor before Bilbo left, his head nearly light with all of the epics, heroics, and figures of legend that he'd never fully read about until then. A few hours in the library had somehow turned to fleeting moments, so it seemed, and the hobbit suddenly felt anxious. It was but a few tomes and scrolls he'd flipped through, and all the small fraction of texts that were in the Common Tongue out of all of the Elvish-written prose. Such a fountain of knowledge the library was, and yet he didn't yet have the tools to fetch its sweet waters. Which, of course, brought his thoughts to Estel, and he vaguely wondered where the boy was.

Elevenses was passed in the lower mess hall with only his own company, which the hobbit didn't particularly mind, as he took his time alone to watch across the balcony and to the nearby falls with a pipe in his hand. Several smoke rings managed to make their way out from the shelter of the hanging roof before they fully dissipated, and after feeling pleased with his results, he then turned to try to make the things sweep around the domed roof. This, of course, was much more difficult, and after they continued splashing up against the walls, Bilbo thumbed the head of his pipe and turned his attention to Balin, who had entered for an early lunch.

"Hullo!" the halfling greeted, and he sucked in a breath of smoke. Then another ring escaped his mouth, and this time it rounded quite nicely about the candles on the long table.

Balin moved next to the hobbit and sat, reaching over to a plate of biscuits that Bilbo had fetched from the kitchens. "Hello," he said, and bit into the bread. "Where've you been off to today?"

"The library," Bilbo replied, and he tapped his pipe out, remembering his conversation with Gandalf. For a moment he allowed the old dwarf to continue eating, crumbs falling into his long white beard, until he realized that the chewing likely wasn't going to stop soon. So, as Balin reached for another, he said, "so, the map reading."

The dwarf looked at him, now washing down with water.

"Interesting, right?" The smile that fell over the halfling's face was a rather unfortunate one, and he knew it, so he decided to just be straight to the point. "What was that wink for?" As of yet, Bilbo wasn't even sure if Balin knew about the necklace, as there was only the wink to go off of. Which to him seemed like enough evidence, but he didn't want to go around spreading the news of the gift to everybody.

"Laddie," Balin said, and he leaned forward, as if to let words of supreme wisdom fall out from his mouth. "It wasn't that hard to guess."

"It wasn't?" Bilbo found himself squeak.

"Thorin, always observing you, and you yourself making all of those gestures-" to which Bilbo asked quickly, _what gestures?_ "-it was bound to happen. Did you answer him yet?"

The hobbit, still flustered at this mention of gestures, only let out a strangled, "I don't think that that should concern you." Of course, the dwarf nodded, as was the custom to not bother both parties involved until an answer was made. However, after collecting himself, Bilbo added, "where did you hear it from, may I ask?"

"Balin, there you are!" someone called, and Bilbo jumped in his seat. Dwalin strode out from the doorway and into the hall, no less big nor formidable as he'd appear on a battlefield, as was his manner. His elder brother gestured for him to take a seat, so the large dwarf did so, and grabbed the plate of biscuits, only lifting his eyes for a moment to acknowledge Bilbo.

"Hello," he said faintly, wishing that Balin had answered sooner. However, that didn't seem like it would be an issue.

"Do you remember who was talking about the chain during the first breakfast here, Dwalin?" Balin said absently, and his bands grabbed for a slice of turkey from a silver plate. Bilbo only sat agape, nearly petrified at the thought that more dwarves knew about all of this. However, the large dwarf only shook his bald head, and Balin in turn munched on thoughtfully. "You know, it may have been Bombur."

"He was telling to Bifur about something or another," Dwalin grunted, and fisted more food into his already filled mouth. Bilbo winced, never quite having gotten used to dwarvish table manners. However, though his stomach may have felt queasy, the fact that now Bombur - and Bifur, of all dwarves - was on the list of knowing about the companionship business didn't help matters at all. In all honesty, he didn't see how the two could have possibly produced the information themselves, and that simple realization made something in him deflate. If that was so, then that meant that they heard it from someone else.

Ah, it must have been Bofur. But then, where did Bofur hear it from? And who after that?

Bilbo sat up and tucked his pipe into his vest, feeling a bit numb. "Where are you off to?" Balin asked.

"No idea," he replied vaguely, and after dabbing his nose into his handkerchief, he went on, wondering if he really wanted to hear what Bifur and Bombur had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter titles:  
>  _Dialogue, and Then Some More_  
>  _The Tsundere Dwarf_  
>  _Gandalf Stop Pls_


	6. The Tremendous Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gifted pie leads Bilbo behind elven doors that before would have remained closed to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been incredibly busy doing finals these past weeks which is why I haven't updated in a while. I still am wrapping up on tests but this weekend I finally managed to pull this chapter, which as someone kindly pointed out to me, may be considered as "insufficient". I wasn't exactly obliged up update at all though, you see, but decided to make this filler chapter so that I could break off into a few more things, as well as fill a request that I got from a friend.
> 
> _If you think that my updates/chapters/fics in general are insufficient for your tastes, then please, feel free to think so away from my inbox._
> 
> If you don't like filler chapters, just wait for chapter 7.

If there was anything that Bilbo had noticed from the past few days, it was that somehow the dwarves managed to be in places that Bilbo would have thought as improper. In the kitchens, lurking around the markets, even on house roofs. So, though he really had no idea where Bombur would be when he discovered that he wasn't in the cooking areas, he went to the front doors of Elrond's house and stepped out, knowing that he'd eventually run into someone if he nosed into things he shouldn't. That was when he smelt the warm, welcoming redolence of freshly baked goods. It took him down the steep front steps, where the air wafted in a manner that confused his nose, so he turned many times around the front of the building before finally coming upon perhaps the most unexpected thing yet: a mince pie, sitting warm and fresh on a bench near a group of trimmed shrubs.

Not only was there one pie, but as he looked around the secluded area, he saw at least five more pies stacked on each other, or sitting by themselves, cooling and extremely pungent. However, Bilbo couldn't help but stare at near dismay at the first; it was massive, bigger than anything that could have possibly fit in his oven back home, and later on afterwards he'd describe it as being large enough to feed three dwarves.

Part of him felt like smiling. No elf would leave this, and though he knew not the reasoning for such a display left outside, it was obvious that dwarves were responsible for its appearance. Actually, if Bilbo's guess was right, he'd be running into Bombur very soon, so he sat on the bench and pulled out his pipe for a second round of smoking.

In that assumption he was wrong. After a few minutes trickled by and the smell of the pie became nearly unbearably luring, he moved away to stand and pace about, eyeing the elvish guards that strode through the courtyard and then taking to thumbing the base of his pipe so that it wouldn't burn out. The birds whistled from hidden heights up above, and the high sun bestowed a lather of rich brown over the tree trunks. Near his feet wound a thread of coursing ants, marching and burdened with much insectile treasure. A fine day for reading in the woods, Bilbo concluded, under a hang of singing green leaves that laughed with the wind's cheerful course. So lost he was in the thoughts of the earthly bounty of ease around him, that, in turning back from his short strides around the perimeter of the area the head of his pipe bumped into someone.

Bilbo nearly choked, as the impact plowed it far in his mouth, and so the hobbit whipped it out before managing a sorry through his coughing. In assuming that he'd run into a dwarf he was correct, but it was in fact Bifur who had turned up. Not someone who he was looking for, really, as he would appreciated understanding the tongue of the person he'd be conversing with, but the dwarf seemed to think the opposite: suddenly his face was lit, and he held the halfling in what might be considered as an embrace to two men trying to drunkenly squeeze the life out of each other in a tavern brawl.

By the time that he was released, his face was nearly purple from it, and his ribs were sore. However, while running a hand gingerly over his chest, he coaxed a faint _hello_ to drop from his mouth.

Bifur was ecstatic. He grunted something in that guttural dwarvish tongue before clamping a hand on the halfling's shoulder and rattling him happily, and finally Bilbo drew out from is baffled state to take a safe guess at what this was all abut. Bifur knew, of course, as he'd thought. At first he felt irritated, to put it lightly, but then again, he and Bombur were brothers, and he supposed that something like the necklace would be gossip as ripe as a grape. What Dwalin had said only confirmed it.

"Would you happen to know where Bombur is?" Bilbo said slowly, but the other had already lumbered to the bench where the pies here, so he sighed and followed to watch the dwarf study the goods. Bifur looked at them, his dark eyes losing their usual clouds and gaining clarity through the invisible steam of baked fragrances that rose about the pair, before he finally lifted the monstrous mince pie and held it out to the hobbit.

Baggins' jaw nearly dropped at its implications. "Oh, I couldn't, thank you," he insisted, but the dwarf continued to bounce his hands to rock the pie over his palms, so he finally gave in and accepted the heavy thing. "Do you know where Bombur is?" came the second try, and Bifur teetered, muttering something that sounded like it resonated deep from the chambers of his dwarven chest. "Did you make all of these?"

At that change of subject Bifur seemed to gain a bit of clarity once more, especially when Bilbo pointed at him, and then the pies, nearly dropping his own pie in the process. He made a proud noise and lifted his fore-arms to shake them, and his grunt became more war-like, which put the hobbit in unease. He felt like it meant something, however, but before he could try to make another gesture a voice fell out from afar.

"There you are, Bifur!" it called, and Bilbo turned about to see a round-bellied dwarf clambering down the stairs and heading there way. _Thank the heavens,_ he thought to himself, and after giving Bifur a small nod of final thanks he made his way over.

"Hullo!" he greeted, and the dwarf halted and smiled at him merrily. "How've you been?"

"Well enough!" He grunted, and pressed his fist at his mouth to get a burp escape. "And where did you get that?"

Bilbo looked at Bifur, who had drawn a stalk of celery from the innards of his jacket, and answered, "Bifur gave it to me! I'm honestly not quite sure how I'll eat it all." Bombur seemed to lighten at the slight suggestion of sharing, and ruddy cheeks creased farther in his pleasant smile. However, before he could make his offer, the hobbit added, "I was looking for you."

"Were you?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I heard that you knew of a certain piece of jewelry, and was wondering where you came by the information." His tone was rather business-like, though maintaining innocence, but Bombur stuttered at its mention.

"So you answered him, then?" he asked, and Baggins frowned.

"I think I'd rather not say."

The dwarf nodded and let out an _ah_ , taking it that the answer to his question was negative. "I'm sorry. That would've been my brother Bofur."

 _As I figured_ , Bilbo thought. "And where did he hear it?"

At this Bombur paused, and remained unmoving in a facial expression of thought when the axe-impaled dwarf stood near him and began to toy with his unbuttoned vest. "Was it Oin? Nay, perhaps Balin? By Mahal, I don't remember, I am sorry."

Oin too, then. Bilbo guessed that he should have known, remembering what the old drawf had said last night. "Thank you, Bombur," he said. "It's alright." After a moment's hesitance, he added, "may I ask what the pies are for?"

"Ah!" Bombur explained, yet again content at the topic of conversation. "Well, you see, Dwalin had said that he hadn't had a good pot pie in ages, so I offered to make one if the elves would let us use the kitchen. When I went, though, some others did too, and we figured that we'd make more than just one." Bifur bared his forearms and grunted once again. "Bifur here thinks that he can do a better blueberry tart than Gloin."

Bilbo rose a brow. "Really now?"

The carrot-haired dwarf nodded, a proud grin on his face. "I'd reckon that it's true." He placed a hand on his beard in thought and added, "actually, you should try it!" "I'd be glad to," Bilbo said with a smile, and said his good-byes to Bifur as well before making his way up the stairs and trying to balance the horrendously heavy pie in his hands. By the time that the halfling was back in the lower mess hall, he figure was drooping under the sheer weight of it, and he plopped it on the table and began to carve a well-deserved slice from it.

"Would you care for some pie?" Bilbo offered to Balin and Dwalin, who were still reclining in the chairs and talking. They accepted, and on their plates plopped massive chunks, but still the pie was only barely dented. Thus, he frowned at the tremendous thing for a moment, wondering if it was possible to finish it before it went bad. However, he quickly succumbed to the mouth-watering, warm scent of pie crust and the rich perfume of cooked berry and apple mingled with roasted nut, so he dove into his own slice and savored over every mouthful. It must have run in the family, the cooking expertise that Bombur and his brothers held, and Bilbo almost felt foolish for not seeking such a trait in Bifur. Though perhaps toned down in mind, his hands still made a mince pie that any hobbit might bleed for.

Not before Bilbo was adjusting his belt to bestow relief to a belly filled with much more than one slice (which still didn't cause much of an impact on the pie, even though he and two dwarves were working at it) there was a gruff voice that came out from the archway. "Aye, I'd think not," Gloin said, and he entered the room, his bulky, uncloaked figure flanking the steps of one that stood a fair few inches above him.

The halfling nearly coughed chocking on his mouthful, half thinking of quickly buttoning the top parts of his collar before he remembered that there was no need. So, he swallowed thickly and washed down with the river-water in his cup, unsure of what to say. Howevr, it turned out that he needed not say a word, as the two dwarves at the table hailed the pair, and thus the newly entered others sat and filled their own plates as well.

Thorin had seated himself next to Bilbo, and after having seen that Gloin's discourse shifted to the two brothers further down the table, he said, "I've spoken to Gandalf."

"Have you?" Bilbo chirped, his hands in his lap and fisting his pants, abandoning his meal entirely. However, Thorin eyed the him, and then the curly-haired hobbit's plate, as if willing him to continue. So, he did, and the raven-haired dwarf plunged a fork into his own slice.

"Yes," Thorin said imperturbably, as if talking to a child, and the hobbit felt vaguely disgruntled. "Of course; he confirmed what you told me."

"Of course," he echoed, and shoveled the rest of his pie crust around his plate, wondering why he thought that Thorin would give him the benefit of the doubt on the matter in the first place.

"He told me about about questioning the others," with his large hand he reached to a glass bottle untouched by others and poured red wine into his chalice, "and I agreed. You've been doing as such?"

Bilbo nodded, and swallowed the other bite that he'd taken. "I spoke to Bombur, who said that he heard from Bofur. He couldn't remember who told him, though."

"And I spoke to Gloin, who heard from Balin," Thorin replied, and his voice seemed to trail into dissatisfaction.

"Who was told by Bombur," Bilbo added, with a faint wince.

"Have you asked my nephews?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't know where they are, actually."

To this Thorin smiled, if faintly, and Bilbo blinked at it. Their journey from the Shire to Rivendell had been one of rains and food washing into rivers, trolls and wargs, so not often did he see an upturn of lips from their dwarven leader. Thus he thought that the dwarf simply wasn't one to do as such, but between last night and now, he found that he was wrong. The hobbit felt his heart strangely lift in its wake, and a relief brush his heart. _If he is to be my lover, I'd have him smile, at least,_ Bilbo thought jokingly.

"I'd have figured as much," were the fond words that escaped him, and Thorin took a bite of the pie. Bilbo stared at his moving jaw before he finally found that he was staring, and instead took another gulp of water. A strange business, this, he conversing with the dwarf in a way he'd never before done. It nearly felt normal, and that was very unsettling.

"Would any of you happened to have seen Ori?" Dori asked, now entering the table as well.

Most of those at the table shook their heads, but Gloin answered, "was he not with Nori?"

At this the snow-haired dwarf stilled, and Bilbo thought that he might just run out of the room without a moment's notice. However, for some reason or another he only paused in pained hesitation before trudging to the table, eying the food. "I think he was, actually," Dori said faintly, and began to move into a seat and serve himself more of the pie.

"Is everything alright?" Baggins couldn't help but ask, and Dori smiled and answered, "yes, quite."

Bilbo then turned back to Thorin, and upon remembering their topic of conversation, gave a questioning look to the newly entered dwarf. He had half a mind to ask Ori's eldest brother, but upon seeing a pair of dark blue eyes flicker negatively, he only shrugged and polished off the rest of his pie. After all, so far it didn't seem like any of the three brothers knew of the necklace, so what point was there of asking them something they knew nothing about? "I think I'll be off then," he said, and Thorin seemed to begin to stand when the hobbit rose, but at one look at the others he stilled and looked down at the table.

Was that shame?

"If you find them, do ask, please," he said, so the hobbit nodded and took the pie (which had decreased in weight) before making his way out of the mess hall with a furrowed brow. It was courteous to stand when someone left the table, granted, if they were a lady. Had Thorin thought of doing as such? For a moment it made no sense, but a cool that bounced over Bilbo's skin as he walked reminded him of the implications that the gesture may have held. Maybe, though the dwarf had given him the chain, he didn't want to admit what it meant.

Maybe he _was_ ashamed.

This, of course, put quite a damper over his before fair mood, and Bilbo nearly stopped walking because of it. A naivety that he held before suddenly revealed itself and withered. Were his wishes so preposterous, if in the mere suggestion of them Thorin felt in some level embarrassed? Surely not, as Fili and Kili seemed open to the idea, but he knew that this entire situation was too much for him to think about. The dwarf having named the necklace as a gift gave simplicity to the entire ordeal - a gift, something that people gave to each other day by day - but he knew that that wasn't just it.

He was Thorin's companion now. To be called on whenever called for, and to have that courtesy returned to him in the same manner. To be ever watchful of something that may seed and sprout between that, as well, from mutual interest and a bond made in cold, fiery gold. _Mutual_ , Bilbo thought, and wondered if it was really that; his stomach made all sorts of flips at the thought of it.

After all, what would his neighbors on Bagshot Row say?

"Bilbo?"

As it turned out, Baggins had stopped walking, and was staring gravely at the corridor floor before him until brought back by Estel's voice. "Oh, hello!" he said, and he smiled, gladdened to see the boy once again.

"Is all well?" Then, glancing at the pie, "what's that?"

"Yes to the first question, and pie to the second. Would you like some?"

Estel smiled, and nodded. Though he didn't look all that convinced, apparently the sight of the food had quite taken him too, and when he finally found words he answered, "yes, very much."

Bilbo, in all honesty, didn't feel very up to going back into the mess hall, so after glancing about, he asked, "where shall we go then?"

"I was on my way to the Hall of Fire," Estel admitted, and at that moment his face brightened with an idea. "You should come with me!" With that, he grabbed the hobbit by the arm and proceeded to lead him through the halls where the building faced away from the valley drop and smelled clearer of pine and gentle breezes were cut and stilled, leaving the air clear for the song of birds and a beating woodpecker's knock. "I said I'd teach you the useful parts of Sindarin, and so I shall, and what way is better than in the company of elves?"

"What is the Hall of Fire?" Bilbo asked, and at the mention of elves he grew flustered, wondering if he sould have perhaps put on his cleaner shirt, or at least left the pie to be watched after (and eaten) by the company in the mess hall. However, between keeping up with Estel's excited strides and himself balancing filled pie dish, he didn't have much of an opportunity to voice his worries.

"The Hall of Fire," Estel began, "is a hall in Elrond's home, made for story and song. A great fire always blazes in its walls, keeping it in light and in a place fit for tale and merriment." They curved through a room riddled with elves, all nodding at the young man and his halfling friend, and made it to the great wooden doors that reigned at its head. "During the day, though, it is an ideal place for quiet, quite the opposite of what you might find after sundown."

With only a faint creaking the doors drew open, and Bilbo's eyes widened at the sight that befell him, his fingers gripping tighter onto the dish. The hall was long and tall, great banners hung from its high, shadowed ceilings, and the windows at the walls behind arches held no equal to the glowing honey that rose from a fireplace as tall as the head of Brandybuck Hall. Estel moved in much more comfort and leisure than he, and moved down the few steps that dipped down into the bulk of the hall, the gray of his boots moving lightly over the grass-colored tile. Wordless, Baggins followed, feeling free in the expanse and warmth of the area, and found himself smiling when they sat on the steps that washed back up to the foot of the fires.

"It's beautiful," Bilbo breathed, and Estel quirked an eyebrow at him fondly. "You say that they have songs here at night?"

"Indeed," the boy piped, and he tried at grabbing himself some pie, which the hobbit had put down. Then, with a bite and approving lick of his lips, he added, "the tables fill with food, cups flow over with wine, and stories are told and received by guests and friends. At these steps the those that are musical play in throat or string or pipe, or near the arches wherever the moonlight trickles in."

"Do they?"

There they sat for a long moment, Bilbo's eyes combing the hall and searching the onset of shadow and orange blaze that danced about the ceilings and sides of the room, and then at the statues, until Estel brought him out from his admiring with an amused, "Bilbo, _tolo!"_

"Sorry!" Baggins asked, caught off guard by the boy's voice. "What was that?"

"I said come, unless you'd rather walk the chamber before we start," Estel said, the grin on his face bigger. He'd been in the room many times before, and the hobbit could tell that he was proud to show it to someone that had never seen its grandeur. However, Bilbo shook his head and folded his hands together, already planning to take a look around after they were finished. Thus, Estel nodded, and after finishing the pie that was in his hand and licking his fingers, they started.

If it were Gandalf trying to teach him and suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter at his attempts at echoing the fair tongue, Bilbo would have been more than displeased. However, when he tried a hand at _mae l'ovannen_ and Estel pressed a hand to seal his lips, his face growing all shades of hysterical red, the halfling repeated it in a worse manner than before and chuckled. "What does it even mean?" he said, voice short of air from the mirth that he'd let out after his fourth go at it, and after the boy was finished laughing and sighing, he replied, "well met."

" _Mae l'ovannen_  for well met? That's a bit inordinate, wouldn't you say?" Bilbo said, his tone light and teasing, and Estel giggled into his fist. "Now, in the Shire, we greet by spinning three times and flicking our noses twice; anything else is impolite!"

"Really?" Estel said, humoring him, though he was still full of titters.

"Oh, yes," the hobbit said seriously, and he tapped his chin in serious thought. "If you don't, you'll quickly be unmarked as respectable, you would."

The banter didn't last long, since when Estel was nearly wheezing Bilbo quickly changed the topic back to Sindarin and gave an honest attempt at the greeting, which grew to be better. It was apparent that Estel was as new teaching the language as Bilbo was hearing it in the voice of someone talking to him, so they moved at a slow but steady pace, the boy showing him how to pronounce certain vowels and the hobbit following along earnestly. Then they moved on and went back to greetings, first with him repeating after Estel said them, and eventually working their way up to greeting each other properly with beginning and ending lines. When the hobbit would be murmuring in repetition to himself the boy would stand and tend the flames with a large metal hook to move about the logs, and when Bilbo would stumble he'd be corrected patiently.

As it turned out, Bilbo had a knack for picking up pronunciation as they moved along. Eventually they ventured into common questions, _how are you_ and the like, but as he echoed the words the doors opened and another entered.

Estel's head jerked to the side, and at seeing the elf he called, "Lindir,  _tolo anin naur!"_

"Come..." Bilbo muttered, but trailed off, realizing that he didn't know the last words. 

"By the fire," Estel supplied to him, and he repeated them quietly, and then the others, as the elf took long and leisurely strides down the hall. 

 _"A,_ Estel. I wasn't expecting to find you here," he said, and Bilbo smiled and nodded in greetings when the same was done to him. "And what are you two doing?"

"I'm teaching Bilbo Sindarin," Estel said, and he lifted his chin proudly.

Lindir lifted his noble face from the pair on the stairs and looked on at the fireplace. "And tending the fire, I see; I must thank you for that." Then, with a slight smile, he knelt with them and asked, "Sindarin, then? I'd think that a hobbit would not often know a tongue of elves."

"Well, you see," Bilbo said, flipping his hands in his lap under the clear gaze, "I wanted to learn since I was a, well, a faunt, really."

"Is that so," the elf said, and Estel scooted over to make room for their new company. "I'd be glad to assist, if you'd have me?"

 _"No, ni 'gassui,"_ Estel said with a smile, and at the hobbit's questioning look he added, "thank you."

By the time that the three finally left the Hall of Fire, Bilbo felt confident in thinking that he'd made a new friend - elven, for that matter, which sent his spine tingling with excitement. As they parted ways he was still aweing at the arches and fireplace that had roared behind them, and was endlessly repeating the new words in his mind, and remembering how Estel and Lindir had said them. However, when he went to talk about it to Gandalf, who was at the fire pit of the mess hall, he found himself worried at the wizard's worried appearance.

"Learn fast, Bilbo. We may be pressed to leave soon." And any further than that he would not explain, which sent the hobbit in a mood of nervous anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do the Sindarin right, I trieedd. If any of it is wrong, please tell me and I'll fix it. 
> 
> Guess what my favorite holiday dish is?
> 
> Also, I was going to have the chapter titled as _An Unexpected Pie_ , but then I realized that that's so mainstream I've gotta be original here guys.


	7. Bear and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is unsure of what he wants, and three members of the company suddenly disappear.

They sat near the fire pit where tucked near the edge of the outer balcony wall an instrument had been found. Though it held strange in his large hands, as its bones and slender arch and strings were slight and thin like spidery tree branches, through his lazy thrums and pulls that bent the notes deep and long he created a sound akin to one of his own harp. The city was arid to him, stinging his eyes and offending his sensibilities, taking any jovial listlessness from his heart and in place bringing him a lasting caution in his mind. However, in the small familiarity Thorin felt with playing simple tunes, as he found most others too dear to play in such a place as this, he found solace and rested easy with Gloin smoking at his side.

There was his company also that brought him comfort. One more than others as well, someone that had been ever growing on Thorin’s mind; he was as strange and alien as this place, but not in such ways that would invoke any ill moods. He was as soft and sweet as whipped honey, and brave like the foal that killed the river troll. Thorin was a prince, and still this jostling youth of green hills and warm nights under a kind, endless summer had brought him a feeling of respite as a bee comb might a bear: always stinging, and desired for no reason other than the lure of sweetness.

The music that had before laughed and leaped from his moving fingers was suddenly slower and more hesitant, flat notes bringing disorder before he stopped and frowned like a bear whose paws were too big for the strings. Gloin lifted the pipe from his lips and looked at him curiously.

“Something on your mind, Master Thorin?”

Thorin's idle fingers plucked a few more strings. “No,” he said simply, and focused on the silver instrument with more attention than before. Gloin, however, looked as if he were suddenly thrown into conflict. His coal eyes were pensive, and manner irresolute, but with a pull at the beads in his hair and grunt deep in his throat, he spoke.

“It isn’t in my place to say,” he began, and Thorin’s dark eyes cast tumultuous storms in their gaze.

“If you think it isn’t, then it must not be,” he interrupted, and Gloin faltered and nearly stopped, but he knitted his brow and continued.

“Since the fall of Erebor, many things have changed. We went for work in towns of men, wandered roads unknown. Us dwarves have only our own and the traditions we keep, and we did keep the two safe; and so we are to Erebor, but we mustn't forget to keep ourselves from changing things that are not meant to be changed.”

At this point, though Gloin’s words were true and from his heart, Thorin’s stare kindled and his thick fingers wrung tightly about the silver-white wood of the harp. He knew what the other spoke of, and to be talked to as such - like a child that needed direction - irritated him. “I will give my things to who I will,” he said, voice low and calling for an end to this discussion. Gloin, however, did not catch the hint.

"Never have I heard of anything of this sort," he persisted, not unkindly but still said with vigor. "All I'm saying is for you to be sure."

Though wanting to command the red-haired dwarf away from him, Thorin bowed his head to the floor in brooding thought. Companionship was not a thing to be taken lightly, and though it was in the more unpracticed and archaic of dwarven practices, when it did occur it was out of deep mutual admiration, and an undying friendship. Always between dwarves, usually shield brothers, but never has a hobbit been included, nor any other race other than the one of stone. Thorin knew that he didn't possess any strong relationship or true bond for the halfling; even on better days he found himself doubting the other. There was another route though, steeped with sacrifice and burdened with love.

To give all your worldly treasures in proposition to another for marriage, and to risk losing it all if they declined, was something else indeed. Not all dwarves did it - very few, to be honest - and was usually used to woo only the most prized, or in times far before Thorin's life. Kings before him had emptied entire halls of gold for their interests, stripped themselves of jewel and fur and any other ornaments of grandeur for the sake of possessing what they desired most. Dwarves only love once, after all, and to not have what was most coveted was indeed to have nothing at all.

Thorin, however, was a dwarf of both much courage and much fear, and in the latter he was unsure of what one thing in all of Middle-earth he'd give up the vast treasures of Erebor for. Frighteningly enough, in asking himself, he found that the idea of doing so for a certain Baggins wasn't completely rejected. His heart surged at the thought, and it left Thorin feeling very unsure. Perhaps a bit afraid as well.

* * *

Before Bilbo had went back to the mess hall and saw Gandalf, Thorin and Gloin had already moved to the main table to seat with others who were beginning to eat early dinners. It was there that the hobbit saw the prince, and he seated himself a little ways away from him next to Bofur. The dwarf's other two brothers where nowhere to be found, and he thought it especially strange for Bombur to be absent from the dining table, but he thought nothing of it when the last of the pie was finally finished and others brought in platters of food straight from the kitchens.

There was a strange emptiness in the table that Bilbo couldn't have said he'd ever seen before. A good half of the company was gone, and there was an awkward spacing of empty chairs between some of those eating. Other than Bofur's brothers, Kili and Fili were missing, as well as Dori and his younger brothers. Bofur seemed to notice most of all, Thorin too, and the both of them were often found observing the door between bites.

"Where is everybody?" the hatted dwarf wondered aloud, and Bilbo looked at him and gave a faint shrug, chewing a mouthful.

Thorin only furrowed his eyebrows. "I wonder."

The halfling was so used to people barging into the dining chambers that when Dori burst in with an uncharacteristically worried Nori trailing behind him he didn't even flinch, but rather looked curiously at the snow-haired dwarf as he fretted: "Is Ori here?"

At the question a spike of concern rose in Bilbo. Had he not asked about this earlier? Thinking back to it, he remembered that the other had, and that the young dwarf was said to have been with Nori. But obviously he wasn't now, and the two brothers seemed anxious. Perhaps most of all, though, was Thorin, who stood from the table after the others replied  _no_ , and asked, "and what of Fili and Kili? Have you see them?"

"Are the unaccounted for as well?" Dori asked, and Bilbo lowered his fork slowly, feeling the sudden tenseness in the room. Thorin seemed grimly pensive for a moment, his gaze glazing over those about the table, before he said, "does anyone know where they may be?"

"I left Ori with the pair after leavin' the market," Nori said. "Off to go to the woods, 'e said, and that was midday. They should've been back by now."

"Maybe they got lost?" Balin offered, and Bilbo silently disagreed. Even if Kili had trouble finding his way back places, Fili was efficient in tracking back where he'd come from. The two would have been in good care with him, so them not returning was worrisome. Nothing bad could have happened to them in Imladris, right? Or at least, maybe now something could, taking into account the suspicion that formed on Thorin's face.

Gandalf, who had still been by the fire pit, stood and walked to the edge of the congregation. "I'm sure they'll find their way back," he said to Thorin, but the dwarf was resolute in his mistrust. The meaning of the wizard's words leaped clear into the Bilbo's mind; one wrong occurence in Rivendell and the prince would up and leave, as his temper was short, and misgivings easily provoked. He wouldn't stay even if it was the best thing for them to do. His nephews were gone, along with the youngest member of the company, and on top of that the key to the side door was gone under mysterious circumstances. Perhaps if it was not for the latter they'd have already picked up and left to the mountain trails.

"The sun sets," the raven-haired dwarf said. "Food lies on the table, but still they have not come. Something must have happened."

Dori wrung his wrists in worry. "I'm going to go find them."

"I as well," Thorin said, and he quickly moved to the entrance of the room. Gandalf, however, called after them, "Bilbo will come too!"

"Me? What for?" Bilbo squeaked.

"To watch after them."

"We don't need watching after," Thorin interjected, but the wizard ignored him and said, "I would go myself, but there is something I must attend this night." As always, of course. Once disaster struck, Gandalf was somehow usually out of reach. At everyone's disapproving gaze, he sighed and added, "I was to take counsel with Elrond concerning the trolls, if the lot of you must know; they bothered his people for a time before they were defeated, and he'd like to know what was in their store." It was said impatiently, but it appeased the dwarves - not Bilbo though, who was still frowning.

He could see, however, how someone might need to keep an eye on them. If they were to run into elves while combing through the woods, it would probably not be a pleasant encounter. Bilbo only hoped that there was no trouble to be found, whatever happened to Ori and the heirs of Durin. Out from the dining hall they went, and after stopping off at Thorin's chambers so that he could get his axe, they left and took a trail into the trees without as much as a direction to start off with. Bilbo and the others at first followed Nori, who found paths in the mud with a fair amount of ease, and when the soft soil broke into grass Bilbo mentioned the clearing he went to with Kili before and took them the rest of the way.

By then the sky was beginning to darken, and the first of the crickets began chirping to a moon faint and blending in the deepening blue that surrounded it. Dori was still anxious, and if one paid attention as Bilbo did the fidgety moments that Nori made said that he was as well. Thorin was openly agitated too, but spoke little, and only called out the names of the three when they stopped at any part of the forest where the tree cover broke. When the sky became visible in these little clearings, his dark gaze would pull up and he'd frown at the lacking light of day, and urge them on.

Once the group made it to the place with the log and flowers that Bilbo remembered, they spread out and searched its parameter. After they came up with nothing they regrouped and frowned, at a loss of what to do. This was unfamiliar territory, and it would be stupid to go blundering about it when night was coming so quickly. "I'm sure that they're fine," Bilbo attempted at seeing the hopeless expression on Dori's face. "After all, the worst that could happen is that they find their way back when morning comes."

As if that was the cue to do so, a figure burst out from the bushes and undergrowth and tripped over the log, leading them to land square in the middle of the party. Thorin drew his axe faster than Bilbo yelped, and before he knew it Nori was brandishing his daggers as well, pointing them at the intruder.

"H-hold! It's Fili!" Fili said, and the weapons were instantly sheathed and the fallen dwarf hoisted up.

"Where have you been? What happened? Where are the others?" Thorin asked all at once, and his blonde-manned nephew caught his breath before answering.

"We were hunting; we saw a stag and Ori went after it, and Kili shouted at him to not go too far when it broke cover and fled so he ran after him. That was a few hours ago, and when I went looking for them they were gone."

"What on earth where you running from?" Nori asked.

Fili shrugged. "I was lost for a bit too, but I found the tree that I made a mark on a few days ago and rushed to find someone to help. I'm not sure how far they ran, but it was near the mountain base."

"Very well," Thorin said. "Can you find the way back there?"

His nephew nodded.

"Bilbo!"

For the second time they all started and the others reflexively drew their weapons. However, when the newly entered person revealed himself, they did not withdrawal immediately. It was Lindir, and he looked rather breathless, something that Bilbo had yet to see from an elf. "Gandalf told me what had happened." Then, looking at the dwarves and only glancing at their weapons, he added, "I know these woods very well; I've come to help."

Though Lindir said this earnestly, Thorin regarded him stonily before turning back to Fili. “Can you return back to where they were lost?”  
  
The dwarf nodded.  
  
“You have our thanks, elf, but it seems as if we’ll be able to find our way,” and Dori and Nori nodded in concurrence. At this Bilbo frowned, and he moved near Lindir. How Thorin though that they’d be able to find them with the sun falling he had no idea, and it was folly to think that Fili, who had gotten lost as well in the first place, could manage to find the other two.  
  
“Now, here me, all of you,” he piped, and the dwarves looked at him in surprise at his commanding tone. Bilbo’s arms were crossed like a mother’s who was scolding her faunts. “For just once, accept his help! He knows his way around, and we don’t.”  
  
At this, Thorin and the others blinked. For a moment he thought that they might even agree, and Lindir shifted, seeming to think it so also, but the prince turned and gestured for his nephew to move. “We’ll fare well enough ourselves.”  
  
If he hadn’t known any better, Bilbo may have stamped his foot in frustration. Lindir clasped his hands and sighed, casting a look at the halfling that said  _ah well_ , but the curly-haired hobbit wasn’t going to give in that easily. Oh, no. He’d dealt with the stubbornness of dwarves for long enough, and if they were willing to sacrifice the chance of finding Ori and Kili before midnight just because they felt just in declining an elf’s help, then he was half ashamed to be a part of this company.  
  
“Thorin,” he huffed, his tone exasperated, and nearly instantly the dwarf looked back. “For pity's sake, just take the help.”

* * *

Fili’s usefulness in the search ended when he found the area where he and the others had split. With clumsy searching the dwarves shuffled about to look at the ground and try to pick up anything at all, but Lindir immediately strode to where Fili had said they broke cover and knelt at seeing something. By the time they went further into the woods the stars were already twinkling in the cloudless sky, and nearby an owl hooted and Bilbo’s sharp ears heard the beat of wings hit the cool air.

When Lindir remained silent, and only strode a few steps forward to look longer about, Bilbo shifted his gaze to Thorin. In the forest shadows his skin still caught the light of bleeding stars up above, and the comets that wound his hair marked themselves in silver. He’d grudgingly accepted the hobbit’s command of accepting Lindir in their party, but since then he shared no words with him, which Bilbo thought was immature. At least the other three didn’t seem to mind the elf so much as they continued, but they weren’t what concerned him at the moment.  
  
Bilbo's thick-soled feet led him near the dwarf, and his eyes met the floor as he played with the long grass between his toes. “It’s not all that bad, is it?” he said, a small smile playing at his lips. This whole business was ridiculous, really; as were the unyielding ways of the dwarves.  
  
Dark eyes caught in the shadow of his brow flickered to Bilbo. “What isn’t?” he asked, confused, and Bilbo rose an eyebrow.  
  
“Oh, you know. Submitting to a pointy-eared fellow for once; a first, no doubt." the halfling said teasingly, and at  _submitting_  Thorin pulled a face, which nearly made him laugh. So, not without a bit of hesitance, he rested his hand on the dwarf's arm and spoke in a more serious tone, "I think it was very smart of you to accept." However much it may have seemed so, Bilbo wasn't completely unaware of the conflicts that faced Thorin. Abandoned by an elven army at their greatest need, on top of a long-lasted grudge between the two races: it was anything to make a person sour. Even if, he mused, at times it was a somewhat overstretched.

Thorin shifted at the halfling's touch, and though his eyes had hardened for a moment, it gave way to a certain kind of softness that made Bilbo feel like drawing his arm away. Not out of fear, or anger, either - a sudden twist in his stomach like an explosion of butterflies burst, and he grew stiff at the feeling. "I do not doubt that he did it more for your sake than ours," the dwarf said, and he blinked at himself when his tone came out as discontent. Bilbo noticed it too, and pulled his hand away, but Thorin added, "as long as he finds them."

The last part was added more lightly, though the words themselves weren't as such, and as a whole they made the hobbit brighten. Surely, if the dwarf truly didn't want Lindir there he wouldn't be, but seeing as how he was must mean something. A small victory for him, getting Thorin to take aid from an elf. It made his smile return, and without hesitation he patted the prince's arm warmly and turned when the others began to talk.

"It would seem as if they went this way," Lindir called out from the ever-lengthening shadows of the trees, and Dori immediately jumped and rushed to the elf's side. "Both of their tracks, running hurriedly."

"Well, let's get on, then!" Nori insisted.

After a last glance at Thorin, who gazed back and seemed thoughtful in expression, they pressed on. This time the halfling found himself straying nearer towards the dark-haired dwarf, and in turn the other didn't seem to mind to keep nearer to the elf. Lindir was at the head of the party, eyes ever moving at the grass and dirt, bush and bramble, and here and there a brief pause would take place and they'd be careful not to move lest they trod over any of the invisible train they followed. Dori was full of questions, and Bilbo was gladdened to see the elf put his mind at ease if but a little when Lindir noted the fact that Kili and Ori had kept together. That small comfort was lost, however.

"They split here," the elf said, and they halted. "Firmer shoes broke to the right, and someone of greater weight continued straight."

"We have to follow Ori," Dori exclaimed. "Let's continue forward then!"

Thorin scowled at this, and Bilbo figured that he wanted to find Kili first, until he said, "who is to say that Kili is lighter?"

"Beg your pardon, Master Thorin, but Kili is as light as a leaf," Dori replied, and Nori scratched at his beard and nodded. Fili, however, seemed to instantly flare, and Thorin's expression darkened.

"He is not! He's a good deal heavier than Ori!" Fili said defensively.

With this a sudden bickering erupted between the dwarves, and though Thorin regally denied the argument his presence, he still looked as angered as any of them. Lindir crossed his arms and examined the event with subtle impatience, fingers tapping his arms. Bilbo, however, wasn't so silent in his distaste with this time-consuming banter. "Kili," he interjected, "has heavier boots, doesn't he?" Thorin and the others looked at him. Under so many flashing eyes he swallowed, but he continued on to the faint footprints in the dirt where grass had cleared. "By looking at the shape of the shoe we should be able to tell who it was." It was already true in his mind that Kili had indeed been the one to break off, but to prevent any more shouting it was the only thing he could think of.

A good thing, too. After a small moment of discussion over his words they shuffled over to the footprint, and there Thorin announced it as Kili's with a frown. Nori looked thoroughly smug, but Dori persistently urged Lindir to continue after Ori's trail now that they knew which it was. Soon after, Lindir found something else.

The elf's strides stopped, and at stooping down his brow pinched in what seemed to be worry. Bilbo, who heard Dori's stress-burdened breaths the entire way, suddenly heard every intake stop from everyone there. "Blood," Lindir murmured, and Dori went pale, as did Fili. Nori and Thorin, however, only seemed to grow more agitated and reddened in the cheeks.

"Is it theirs?" Thorin demanded, and Lindir gestured to the red that freckled the moss bellow. While the prince knelt down to see it, Lindir went a few paces away.

"They merged again here." Then the elf continued on, still in eye-shot so that the dwarves that stayed behind wouldn't lose him.

Not much time had passed, perhaps a minute or two, but Bilbo now had to keep his teeth clenched so that they wouldn't chatter loudly. His eyes darted to Thorin again when he said, "they must have been attacked," and looked to Fili. "Were there any others in the woods?"

"Nay, not that I remember," the blonde-haired dwarf replied, but he looked afraid, and bent to look at the blood with his uncle.

"There's more here," Lindir called, and yet his expression gave nothing away but a thoughtful look even as the group ran to him, collectively gasped and grabbed for their weapons when the lengthy smears of blood were unveiled from their shadow-covers. Then the elf looked on, his keen eyes shooting between the trees, and through the commotion of angered dwarves brandishing arms the hobbit strained his eyes as well.

Up ahead shone a faint light, more yellow and warm than the chilled lunar glow that fell over the leaves up above. "Is that a campfire?" he thought aloud, and if Fili hadn't been near him the dwarves may not have taken notice of his words. However, he was, and so they did - Lindir nodded, confirming that it was indeed just that. For a moment they stood still, and Thorin went as far as to turn to Nori and Fili to discuss what ambush they should launch on these villains that attacked the young lost dwarves. However, Dori wasn't of a like mind, and instead burst through the trees. Lindir hurried after him, as did the others, and intense worry for the snow-haired dwarf was felt until they barreled to the stone-face where the fire was lit. There was nobody other than Ori and Kili.

If it was a shock for the search party to see the lost pair in such comfort and ease, the two around the fire felt their hearts nearly stop when they were suddenly bore down upon by axe-wielding, fiery-eyed warriors. Despite this, Dori was the first to go and envelop Ori in a bear-like embrace, and Thorin stroke to a Kili who seemed wary of scolding until the same happened to him.

The blood was soon explained to them by their own words, if the sight of the boar laid between them wasn't enough; Ori saw it first, he said, and timidly added that he thought that he'd be able to impress Kili and Fili if he managed to kill it and bring it back. However, in the process of challenging a wild boar, Ori was split from them and Kili went after him, and Fili was left trying to find his way to them as well before getting miserably lost and tracking his way back. The youngest dwarf managed to get a shot at the boar after climbing a tree, which explained the first drops of blood, but then Kili had come charging in after him and ran into the boar, causing him to run away further.

By the time that Thorin's nephew had reached the area near the cliff-face, Ori managed to sneak up behind it and shoot it again to distract it so that Kili could finally gather himself and attack. In the end the battle ended at the camp-area itself, with Ori driving his brother's dagger into its skull, which Nori grinned proudly at. At the end of the story Dori lectured his youngest brother on the importance of safety, especially with wild boards, but everyone there could see how proudly he beamed. Fili was somewhat emberassed in thinking that he'd seen a deer, but it was quickly lost over patting his brother and ruffling his hair.

Between the two, Ori and Kili carried back the animal, and by then they were showered with congratulations for killing their first boar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if you guys can find where Bilbo gets a boner. ~~double entendres are my specialty~~
> 
> So I keep saying that I'll update this every weekend, but obviously that's not happening. So, seeing as it gets updated every other weekend instead, I'll try to stick with that. Or shit, _did_ I update this last weekend? Am I on time? I don't know whatever idc.
> 
> I swear that the boar is important okay so pls no comments about 'insufficiency' thank you xoxo


	8. His Chiming Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a narrow escape from something he's not quite sure he wanted to evade in the first place. However, his dodges from something else are less about respectability and more about self-preservation.

In returning to the mess hall an explosion of commotion and cheer filled the room. Kili and Ori slumped down and tossed the dead boar onto the dining table after it was cleared with sweeping arms, sending the cups and platters to the floor, and the fire pit sprung higher than before. Lindir was sent to the kitchens with Bombur to give word to the chefs that the dwarves were planning on taking over the kitchen (whether they liked it or not, Bilbo assumed), and in the meantime the last of the firewood was used and the gathering sang and talked and reminisced on their own first hunts. Apparently this was a big event for the youngest pair of dwarves, though Bilbo didn’t come close to understanding.  
  
He did, however, understand that for the sake of his less than iron stomach that it would be best if he stepped into the hallway when on the cleared table the dwarves began the tedious chore of skinning and gutting the beast. Out in the corridor Bilbo wasn't anywhere near alone, however, as plenty of dwarves were slipping in and out, chatting and discussing plans for the night as he'd never seen any of them do before. Dori unclothed his precious silverware, beer was brought in from an unknown source, and even Thorin seemed quite changed from his before unsociable state. Instead, as his nephews and Ori continued working at the boar on the table, he walked out of the mess hall to accompany the halfling.  
  
"Thorin!" Bilbo said, jumping, as he was quite flustered with all this commotion. It brought back too many memories of the raid of his pantries back in Bag End the first night he'd met all the dwarves, and the nervous twist in his stomach wasn't anything pleasant. However, he quickly settled under the steady (yet currently pleasant) gaze, and he found it in himself to smile in spite of all this disturbance. "It seems like we'll be having quite some feast."  
  
"Aye," Thorin agreed, and a faint smile in turn appearing on his lips. Bilbo felt some of the queasiness he felt before go away and replace with something warmer. "'Tis a good sign, this boar. I'd imagine that no game further than deer stray into this valley, and for a boar to do so and cross paths with our dwarves is good indeed."  
  
"How so?" Bilbo found himself querying, and the prince seemed taken aback before letting an understanding expression mark his face.  
  
"So the Hobbits have no such entrance rites, I take it? To kill a boar in the wilds is to make your mark of strength and readiness for adulthood, if your path is a warrior's." He rubbed his beard, thinking back, and after a moment added, "I killed mine on my thirty-eighth year, I believe." When dark blue eyes turned to the hobbit as if respecting reaction, Bilbo, who had before not known what to say, nodded and tried his best to look impressed. At this Thorin's smile nearly glowed.  
  
He winced, thinking about any such things they might have for hobbit-kind, but nothing struck a cord. "Hobbits come of age at thirty-three, though we haven't anything to prove it besides counting years," he said in an admitting manner. The both of them turned to watch Bifur exiting the mess hall with a towering stack of plates in his hands, and Bilbo once again felt nervous. "Are you sure that this all can't wait till tomorrow?"  
  
"Not sensible, when we could do it now," Bofur exclaimed, and Fili crossed him and picked an apple that had been rolling on one of the dishes.  
  
"Lovely things, apples. A shame that there won't be any in the Misty Mountains."

Thorin beckoned him off lightly. "Kili, go see what's holding Bombur up, if you please."  
  
Bilbo couldn't help but grin in amusement at how Fili's face morphed into mocking confusion. "If I were Kili, perhaps I could," he said innocently, and Thorin knocked his head playfully, which sent the younger dwarf on. When the prince turned back to Baggins, he found the halfling with a quirked eyebrow and hand resting on his cheek as he shook his head.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," Bilbo said, but his cheeky smile said it all, and the dwarf turned for the gloomy. This, of course, was not suitable at all, with all the festivities and merriment, so he quickly rid his face of any amusement and instead said, joltingly remembering the chain strung around his neck, "should we not have asked about the necklace just then?"

At its mention Thorin turned thoughtful, and he shook his head. "This is Kili and Ori’s night, not one to worry about other matters.” However, at the mention of the mention, it was clear that his mind fled to the key: his brows pinched in, and his eyes cast down bothered-like. The hobbit toyed with the chain for a moment, as now he was painfully aware of it once again, and that sense of foreboding washed over him for the umpteenth time. No matter how exciting this night may be, Bilbo knew that Thorin would have rather not been here at all, still in Rivendell and all.

"When are you training again?" Thorin asked, out of the blue, and Bilbo looked at him in confusion.

"Pardon?"

"At the training grounds," he extended, and the dwarf crossed his arms and leaned against the wall when others began passing through the doorway once again. "You were quite good."

The hobbit couldn't help but smile; he could nearly see that Thorin was aching to say _for a beginner_ , but he didn't. Instead, for what seemed like the first time that he could remember, the dwarf actually uttered a compliment! And that, Bilbo knew, wasnt't to be taken lightly. "Thank you," he said with an indulgent chuckle. "Why do you mention it?"

At this he rose his brow. "I intent to spar with you, of course."

_Of course._

"If you want to, but no promises on a cloud of dirt not being kicked into your face. At this point I think it's the only thing that could keep me from losing horribly," Bilbo admitted, and to his delight he drew a small laugh from Thorin as well. It ran through the hall like deep, chiming bells. Surely, if Thorin chose to laugh and smile and be merry more often, life would be made much better. However, that thought drew out the more unagreeable parts of Bilbo: what about everyone else at home? What would they say? Then, in response to the giddiness that the hobbit was feeling, a new piece of vocabulary flittered unwelcome into his mind: _wrong_. And that made him feel more uncomforable than ever, and he knew exactly why.

This couldn't last. Thorin was a dwarven prince, destined for the throne of Erebor, and utterly and completely male. The summersaults in Bilbo's stomach weren't hobbit-like at all, when he was so close to him. An attentive one at that, as his dark blue eyes flickered with concern at Bilbo's sudden change of face, and he said, "I would not have said it if I didn't mean it, Master Baggins. You handle yourself well with a blade."

"Bilbo," the halfling said dimly, and his hand was brought up to absently rub his arm.

"Bilbo," Thorin reiterated, and Bilbo suddenly wanted to flee out from under his gaze. They were closer now, Thorin off the wall and somehow advancing in a way that he couldn't quite figure out, nor care to, as his prior thoughts made its implications unwelcome. Those thin lips; he shouldn't feel so lustful of them. And Thorin's eyes, ever searching as they looked for something in Bilbo's mouth that only another mouth could receive.

"Can't, uh," Bilbo uttered before the other could draw any closer, and the prince paused. "Shouldn't, I mean, of course - shouldn't we check on Bombur? He's been gone," he ended lamely, and by the time he was finished with his fast words Thorin had drawn back fully, his expression masked hinted with confusion.

"Ah," he began, and he leaned back abruptly. "You'd like to be checking on them, then?"

There were small fires burning in Bilbo's cheeks now, and he felt awful. The laughter was now far away, and the dwarf's brooding seal was set yet again. It was enough to make him want to wring his hair, the poor hobbit felt so embarrassed and stupid. However, he only nodded numbly, so Thorin turned and they walked to the kitchens. Others were already making their way there, and back from the kitchen (which Bilbo figured explained all the dishes and apples coming into the mess hall), and some resident elves had even taken to loitering about the kitchen entrance as if watching a parade pass by. 

Perhaps it was something of an event. Once the boar was bagged and brought into the kitchen for cooking, which happened when Bilbo and Thorin drew near, those in the area cheered and filed into the cooking area. Ori seemed caught between the excitement and writing the account into his journal, and his brother next to him sat on the floor and played a stout wooden flute. For all the happiness that overwhelmed the area there was franticness as well, and Bilbo found himself unable to decide between feeling concerned or humored when Lindir exited the room with a red face and a hand wringing his wrist. Outside in the group of dwarves was Erestor, who had been watching over the procession in equal nervousness, and the counselor of Elrond rushed to Lindir only to be consoled in the fact that whatever could happen in the kitchens, the house would be safe from fire.

Somehow, this made Erestor very relieved, and Bilbo did chuckle.

After that the rest of the night seemed to blur in a rush of song and yelling and the ring of cups in toast to Ori and Kili. Sadly, the hobbit didn't understand half of the songs that were sung, as the throats of the dwarves suddenly spilled with the warm song of heavily accented voices, undecipherable in their rich slurs but still enchanting as he reclined near the edges of the room and gazed out from the mess hall and at the stars. It seemed to be becoming a hobby for Bilbo, he achnowledged when another dwarf topped out of his chair. Looking out at the starts rested his mind most times, but with the foreign chants of deep, flowing mines lilting in his ears, the night sky only brought lust for the undiscovered.

 _Adventure?_ he asked himself. _I think you've had quite enough of it._ However, Baggins would quickly discard this ever time he looked off to the side, eyes unconsciously seeking a raven-haired dwarf that he always caught staring back. Horribly repetitive, he noted, and only hoped that it wouldn't result in a yelling match in his bedchambers.

As it so happened, after the feast had finished and the first ales were being poured and downed in the wide throats of the rest, Bilbo excused himself for bed and Thorin followed. Not behind, of course, but the dwarf stepped next to him and they walked through the halls together. Thankfully, conversation came easily as well, mostly consisting of the hobbit spouting off what he thought about the food (which he marked as superb, he wouldn't have guessed after only having dwarven travel rations that their dishes were so savory). Despite that, at coming to his door, Baggins stopped and swallowed, thinking of Thorin's advance.

The prince was studying the ground, conversation quite lost from him as well. "Good-night."

"Good-night," Bilbo returned, and when Thorin turned he quickly called, "Thorin?"

"Yes, Bilbo?" came the reply, soft-spoken.

"If I may ask," he began, but shuffled at the faintness of his voice. More certainly, he restarted, "I was wondering, what do you expect of me?" The question was in as sincere a tone as he could conjure, and Thorin's brow knitted at its appearance. "I know that it was only a gift, but what does that entail?" _Why did you try to kiss me, and why do I want to kiss you back?_

"What do you think?"

There it was again, the tempests woven in the dark blue of his eyes rising to meet Bilbo, not in anger but in an intrigue and observance that made Bilbo feel as if all his thoughts were out for display. "I don't know," he admitted. "That's why I'm asking you."

The hobbit held his breath when Thorin made a face that looked nearly disappointed. His gaze averted down, then down the hall where they'd come. "Then make it whatever you'd like to be. Good-night."

"Sweet dreams," Bilbo called tenitavely, even when the other began walking away, and the dwarf turned.

"And only the sweetest of dreams to you, Bilbo," Thorin uttered, soft but sincere, before he seemed taken aback by the words that had slipped from his mark unchecked and turned tail once more.

Never did Bilbo have a chamber marked with gold and jewels in his possession, never had there been twists of silver in the floors of his house or running light of gemfire hanging about his clothes like bands of flame. What he did have, however, was a rush of fond warmth overcome him as the prince passed through the hall and out of sight with several looks back, and he smiled at it. He shut himself behind his door and placing a hand over his collar bone, over the band of gold that strung so lightly around his neck. Wool-topped feet led him to the balcony, and his sharp eyes cracked across the night skies and forest below, catching dots of torches flickering like stars through the tree canopies. A scattered freckling of fireflies over the valley, Bilbo's audience.

"Whatever I'd like it to be," Bilbo repeated, and he pulled the necklace off and placed it in his palm, and rose his palm near his mouth. There was a promise in the chain, one from Thorin, and though he didn't know what it was, the halfling shut his eyes against the cool-aired valley and made his own. "I'm scared," he said frankly, and then grumbled and rubbed his neck at the acknowledgement of his own silliness, but despite it he continued. "But, I'd reckon that everyone else is as well, about this dratted adventure, and, well, everything besides. So, I'll try not to be," and over his tongue rolled the words of stumbling feelings, and over the rise of the valley crept the moon until it nestled the clouds; up above him the waning light flickered and glossed his honeyed locks; the necklace, listening to his confessions through the night, surrounded him in a low bronze light in a night reigned by moonlight.

He'd never had any treasure suited for songs of old or tales of riches, but Bilbo had this warmth. And it kept a faint, fatuous smile on his face when sleep pulled him in.

* * *

It was most certainly their being in Rivendell that caused Bilbo to hum all morning when he woke, feeling a song in his heart and warmth in his gut like no other he'd felt since eating a freshly baked pie back in Bag End. Having even slept in a tree once in his more rambunctious years, sleeping on the chilled stone of the balcony hadn't strained him too far, other than a slight ache in his spine. No matter, though, as the new day brought old situations to be mended. After a splash of water on his face and a dab of a wet towel in the nape of his neck, the halfling stripped his night-clothes, clothed himself in fresh, earthy-toned garnments, and headed out to the mess hall.

If he hadn't been in such a good mood, there would have undeniably been a twinge of frustration in him at meeting an empty hall. It was as it was their first time setting eyes on it, minus any candlesticks or platters atop the table surface. Instead, the room bore a cleared, wooden table, chairs tucked away underneath its smooth mass, and not even the slighest trace of any dwarves having been there for breakfast.

Well, Rivendell wasn't all that big, Bilbo supposed. Finding Fili and Kili wouldn't be all that hard to find, and not only because of that reason. It seemed like they purposely laid out a trail of mischief behind them that one couldn't help but stumble upon. However, before he had the chance to smoke his pipe for just a moment before his day truly begun, two familiar voices echoed down the corridor. His left ear facing the archway twitched, and Bilbo turned his gaze from the pipe in his hands to see a cheerful Bofur and an Gloin who wasn't quite as such enter.

"Good morning! Slept well, Bilbo?" the hatted dwarf said, a smile big enough to put creases around his eyes. Gloin, however, seemed to almost glower at Bilbo, and the poor fellow couldn't help but feel confused when the ginger-beared other huffed and began moving about the table. 

"Is anything the matter?" Bilbo asks, his nervousness quite overtaking any polite courtesies to answer Bofur's question. For some reason his mind flies to the rejected kiss the night before, or whatever it was, and he has the dreadful anxiety that somehow Gloin knew. However, Bofur shook his head and walked casually to the fire pit.

"Only a missing necklace, nothing to fret about." At Bilbo's sudden jump at the mention of a missing necklace, he laughed and added, "not yours, I assure you. Gloin's; has a locket on it. Might you 'ave seen it?"

Another huff on the other side of the room emmited from Glion, and Bilbo frowned. "No, I haven't."

"Here it is, no need to bother the burglar." His voice was very clipped, and it made the poor halfling wonder what he exactly did, but before he could gather any proper words the other up and left without as much as saying good-bye. With a simple nuck of the necklace and locket in his breast pocket he was off, and Bilbo was at a loss. Bofur, however, seemed quite oblivious to it all. However, he did seem to have another thing in his mind, and it was cheerfully uttered from his mouth, as most things were.

"You wouldn't happen to be on errands, would you?" he asked, and the dwarf's face was easily creased. It was apparent that the brothers weren't here, so Bilbo only shook his head and drew out his pipe. "Good! Would you like to go to the training grounds? Supposed to be a little brawl later on with Dori and Nori later on, all in good spirits, but you haven't seen Dori swing a warhammer."

This was actually rather hard to imagine, the snow-haired dwarf with all his intricate braids and patted coats swinging anything other than a kettle for morning tea. That was most of the reason why Bilbo accepted before he could say Michel Delving, and on their way the forewarned fight was explained with the cause of the knife having been given to Ori, which Dori was still upset about. And of course, what other way was there to settle a disagreement, distaste, or disapproval than a good quarrel? By dwarvish standards, at least. Then there was the sudden switch of topic to something less applicable, and that was of toy-making.

"Bombur made a toy of Dori once, just to spite him," Bofur said with a grin. "'im and I both know how to whiddle and paint from Bifur; the best toymaker in all of the Blue Mountains."

"Is he?" Bilbo said, smoke from his pipe puffing out from his mouth like a steaming pott.

"I'll show you sometime!" And Bilbo agreed happily, and the sun washed over above them as they entered the clearing, and its light wept over the hobbit's golden chain.

As it turned out, not only were Dori and Nori there, already going at each other near the dirt clearing where Bilbo had trained before, but Ori as well, sitting in the grass and mindfully aware of stray daggers flying his way as he covered is lap in loose papers. There was Bifur also, who Bofur lightly walked to immediately, and Thorin, who seemed quite adimant on talking to Dwalin, not at lookin at the clearing entrance, not at all, though Bilbo swore that he saw his eyes flicker there.

Bilbo suddenly realized that this must be what it's like to be the single lass always catching straying glances from hobbit lads at birthday parties. To be honest, any endearment that he'd felt for was lost, and was rather replaced with a strange mixture of humor and annoyance. If there was anything that Thorin wasn't, it would be a sparkly-eyed hobbit in from the Waymeet farms setting his eyes on a barmaiden in the Green Dragon for the first time. The assult of the prince in hobbit-clothes was something that rose a somewhat cheeky smile on his face, and before it fell Thorin caught it and was suddenly standing and making his way towards him, and that was positively the opposite from what he'd wanted. All the hobbit managed to do was tug at his collar so that the necklace fell beneath his shirt and put out his pipe before the dwarf was upon him, all business and devoid of much other than a faint interest that was in the quirk of his brow.

To Baggins, it was almost egotistic, or at least cocky, his interest. Through the eyes of a prince, Bilbo dully wondered what a hobbit from the other side of the wilds would seem like. Did he think that Shirefolk rested on their porches and ate all day? _Hopefully not,_ he thought, as it suddenly seemed imparative that Thorin's first impression of him was better than that.

"Bilbo?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, yes?"

"I asked if you had your sword on you. You've come to spar, if I correct?"

 _I intend to spar with you._ How could Bilbo have forgotten Thorin's words the night before. "I quite forgot, I'm sorry," and he wondered how he managed to fit two apologies in their few seconds of talking. However, his raven-haired other seemed to pay it no mind, and instead looked off to the others and called, "Dwalin, a shortsword, if you'd please." Before the poor hobbit had a chance to input in the matter, a blade was suddenly pressed into his hand, and he and Thorin were a little ways away from the battling brothers in their own grass-lain area. So, no dirt. This was going to be interesting.

Trying to recall everything that Nori had taught him was incredibly difficult, both due to the enormous sword in Thorin's hand that was staring him in the face, and the fact that those calculating eyes hadn't been taken off him for even the smallest second. And not only the prince's. Out of the corner of his eye, under the tree-shade sat Dwalin and Ori, eyeing them curiously. One would think that they could at least let Bilbo lose this fight with a bit of dignity.

There wasn't much time to concern himself with that meger topic, however, when with a blinding flash the dwarvish sword came singing near him, and Bilbo clumsily jumped out of the way of the blunted edge. Another swing would have had him if he hadn't remembered his footing then and there, which allowed him to backstep out of the way once more at another sword's spring. With that short distance away from Thorin, Bilbo gripped tighter onto his sword, pivoted, and when the other struck again he met it with ringing steel and a quick side-step away that got him hald-way around his opponent. It went on like this for minutes, Bilbo evading and his prince slowly exausting with every annoyed swing, until Bilbo huffed and rounded once more for more up-close combat.

Granted, it was easy to tell that Thorin was only trying to humor him, and that if he wanted to he could have the fast hobbit trying to dodge hits hopping on one leg. But, the dwarf's goal was completed, as Bilbo did feel more confident, and soon they were face to face, the prince nudging him towards more efficiant parries and showing him more countermoves until their fight dissintegrated into talk of sword technique and what Thorin called _proper posture._ The halfling would have looked over to see what Nori's response to that was, but from the sound of it it seemed like he was still dancing around Dori's warhammer. Just as well.

"And, what would you do if something simply lunged at you?" Purely educational, so it would have seemed to anyone who didn't know any better, but there was a faint shine in Thorin's eyes that suggested otherwise. And, that was confirmed when he did indeed charge, and Bilbo, nearly in a panic, moved when he could almost see the prince's pupils. A spring to the side, his splayed out still as he remained in motion, and the hobbit's foot caught Thorin's ankle.

 _Well, I'll be damned,_ was all Bilbo thought when he sat up and saw Thorin eating dirt. Or, grass, seein a few whiskers of it being spat out from the dwarf's mouth. However, instead of laughing, he stood and moved to Thorin's side and helped him up. Thankfully, his sword had fallen mid-air. He couldn't have imagined what would it have been like if Thorin simply fell on top of his sword, and during a spar with a halfling, of all creatures. Even elves would have pleased the prince more. Another thing Bilbo couldn't have imagined was the fact that Thorin was simply shaking with mirth when he was turned onto his back, eyes crinkling and chest tremoring, their hands still locked when the smaller of the two had tried to help him up. Off to the side, Bofur was laughing too, and Dwalin faintly chuckled as well.

Bilbo hadn't excluded himself out from it either, and found himself laughing, though he tempered it with an, "are you alright?"

"Perfectly," Thorin answered through his grin, sniffing and rubbing his nose, and Bilbo swore he squeezed his hand when he finally got up and stood on his own. "I'd reckon that anything that charges at you is doomed."

Not quite knowing what to do with himself other than stare at the dwarf's lit face and feel a fluttering sort of happiness brim in his chest, Bilbo nodded and said, "you've got some grass in your hair - here, I've got it." A few plucks at the strands of hair that framed Thorin's face, and he drew back, flushing and cursing himself. The dwarf stared back inquisitively.

Out from the entrance of the training grounds came Balin, and he announced, "the pie making contest has started! Stop dilly dalling and come help, the lot of you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Tried to make this as fluffy and disgustingly sweet as possible to make up for having not updated in a month. I've always wanted to experiment with a happy!Thorin, so here is my sweet sugar-coated bs that made me happy inside as I wrote it okay don't judge
> 
> also i'm laughing at the title of this i just realized what it says jfc i can't be the only one dirty-minded one that had a good chuckle
> 
> maybe i should mark this fic e for ballplay


	9. Twice They Whispered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cooking competition begins, and the culprit behind the missing key is finally found.

The inside of the armory tent was hung in crimson, holding racks of light chest-plates and straight swords in its bowels. The ground was lain with rugs, and a banner hung from its crux, but any grandeur it held in its shining objects of war was lessened by the fact that a pin could be heard dropping from the outside; though wonderful in appearance, Bilbo supposed that Elvish building had its drawbacks just as anyone else's. So, after placing his borrowed sword back into the rack, his hobbit ears picked up the voices of two familiar souls: Ori and Dwalin.

He supposed that though he wouldn't have taken the two to be friends, nonetheless partners in wager, many of the company were getting to know each other more and more as they traveled along. Take himself and Bofur, for example, who cleared several subjects in question during the first few days of their journey, such as Dwarvish table manners, or what the game _chew the fire_ entailed, which shouldn't have been so confusing with title in mind. After that particular instance of preserving the wellbeing of Bilbo's mouth, he could definitely say that they'd gotten along swimmingly.

At first the wagering had started with something as simple as art. When questioned on the topic, the familiar crinkle of turning pages filled Bilbo's ears (and oh, how sweet the sound), and praises from the deeper-voiced of the two followed. However, from what Bilbo could follow, one certain piece drew on a conversation completely irrelevant to the one before: "Is that Master Thorin and Bilbo?"

"Ah, yes," Ori admitted, "when they were practicing. I'm not very god at drawing expressions, so I thought-"

"No, it's very good." Another crinkle, another bout of silence, and Bilbo tippy-toed to the side of the tent he could hear them best and leaned in. "Thorin did seem very happy."

"He does. Bilbo must have accepted, right?"

Why would any conversation go to any topic other than this? Now, Bilbo had never been the topic of Shire gossip, but he was beginning to realize that he'd take that over Dwarves commemorating his private moments in picture and discussing them in depth. That was just outright nosey. Yet he said not a word, and with a concentrated knitting of his eyebrows, drew his large, pointed ear closer to the tent canvas.

Dwalin didn't answer for what seemed like a long time, and when he did, the halfling began to feel discomforted in what he was eavesdropping on. "I'm afraid so," was the murmur, and the journal was handed back in a crinkling of pages. "I do not pry for Thorin's reasonings on private matters, but this seems very... sudden." As an afterthought, and also as what Bilbo thought to be tinted in self-consolation, he added, "I'd like it very much for him to be happy."

"He deserves as much," Ori said, his voice purely understanding, and Bilbo figured that Dwalin discussing such matters was a tremendous feat. "For a request to come so soon could only mean a - a love companionship, methinks."

"Aye," was the consensus, and Bilbo ground his teeth, wrung his wrists, trying anything to clear the jolt in his chest. Really, this whole ordeal wasn't what he had in mind for maintaining good health. "If Thorin wishes it, then I stand by his decision."

"I'd only wonder if the pledge will take place, under the circumstances," Ori said, his tone absent, before Bilbo heard him audibly jump. "Of course, we won't be knowing until they announce it! I mean, if it happens. Well, if they do. 'Tisn't out business, anyhow, of course."

_Pledge?_

Instead of being upset, as Ori's hurriedly tone of voice seemed to indicate would happen, the older Dwarf only chuckled and said, "I hardly think that he'd know what the first thing to do is. After we settle into Erebor once and for all, I'd say, hmm. Six months to pledge! I'd bet a chest of treasure on it."

"Pardon me Master Dwalin, but I'd wager less for two chests; six days!"

"Six days?" Bilbo fell flat on his behind at the roar of laughter, blowing him off balance and causing him to freeze, lest he was heard. Before hearing the rest, he simply yanked off the necklace, shoved it in his vest pocket, and patted it in his hurried scramble out the tent opening.

* * *

Bilbo had been to a cooking contest once before in the Shire. He remembered when he slung a bag over his shoulder and walked though all of Hobbiton and the Green Hill Country for an entire day and ended up in Stock in the evening, with its lanterns strung over the Golden Perch plaza. On the roof of the inn he and his other tween-aged friends sat and watched Stoors from the bank-lands fish in the orange evening water. Down below there was the very distinct murmur of stressed, concentrated hobbits working on their craft, cursing their pie doughs and strawberry stems; as it was known, hobbits prided themselves in their cooking. Thus, when it became competitive a more ferocious side of their ruddy-cheecked expressions was shown.

 _Have you any rocks?_ the then mischievous Baggins had said, and when several pebbles were pressed into his palm, he chucked them at overhanging branches that loomed about the competitors. Dead autumn leaves would flutter down, and the pained cries were counted in the many through the tense buzz of quiet.

For some reason or another, minus the rock throwing, Bilbo figured that this cook-off would be much of the same: a strangled, fiercely concentrated battle of kneading hands and frustrated mumbles. However, at just standing before the closed kitchen doors, he was very much mistaken. Yells to pass measuring cups and pie dishes were cast out; a continuous chatter of bowls bumping and laughing like chimes rose as atmosphere. When something shattered and someone else cheered, the halfling decided that this event might not be suited to his tastes, as he wasn't feeling very suicidal. So, off he went.

The procession of dwarves lining up to begin the competition was seen by his eyes, Thorin's and Balin's as well, since they were the first to arrive and stand to welcome them through the doors before Thorin parted to enter in suite. In this, it was noted that a particular set of younger brothers had not passed through; instead, they skirted around and left down the halls, only sparing Bilbo a glance and hurried wave that meant they were up to no good. Why were they carrying baskets of vegetables?

Trouble. The pair was worse than a troop of summer tweens trampling their way to who knows where.

Balin, who had also taken his time standing around idly at the doors, called to ask, "leaving?"

"Out for a smoke," came the hobbit's reply, and while the other dwarf nodded and passed through the doors, which sent the volume rocketing until it was drowned again at the shutting of the entryway, Bilbo continued on outside in search of the brothers.

It was very much on his mind to ask the brothers about the necklace, seeing as he didn't have the chance to after the boar was slaughtered. On he went, gaze combing courtyards and gardens that would suddenly leap before his eyes at any winding path, and it was only when he thought that they had decided to make way through the woods once again that he heard their far-off voices.

"Now, that was a good hit!"

As it turned out, once Bilbo found the two brothers (which took a terribly long time, until he finally located them at the foot of tall stairs that led up to a spire), Kili could barely recall where he'd heard of the necklace. The hobbit had come down a stone path that washed out into the meeting place, its pillars roofed tall and twisting and casting shade down to the ground, and containing no neighbors except the trees near the winding road, where he spotted the two dwarves from afar. Not mentioning their height, he knew that elves wouldn't take up such games as throwing assortments of vegetables into the air and swinging the face of their swords at them, sending them flying away.

"What do you mean, you don't remember?" Bilbo coddled, minding where he was standing when Fili spun a cabbage up in the air.

The brown-haired brother shrugged, and the elder dwarf continued to to throw up and catch the cabbage in his hands. "What does it matter?" Fili asked, and then eyed Bilbo. "Have you given him an answer?"

Bilbo flinched when near his ear Kili sent a ball of cabbage into the air with a thwack! "I don't really think that that's any of your business," he said indignantly, and turned to eye the destroyed fruits and vegetables that littered the grass yonder. "Are you sure you're allowed to be doing that?"

"You know," Kili said, and he tossed his blonde-maned brother an apple, who in turn took a favoring bite before sending it shooting into the air with a mist of sweet juice. "Now that I think about it, it was during breakfast - oh, Dori!" And then he grinned, pleased with himself to have remembered. The answer didn't give Bilbo the feeling he thought he'd have when learning who was behind this whole business, however. Instead of a jolt of realization, or an aha, of course! moment, all there was was surprise and aback. Dori? That couldn't be right.

Then he allowed himself a moment to truly think about it. So far, everyone had heard from others as the rumor continuously spread. However, that first day of being involved in this the brothers knew; Ori knew as well, which would make sense of Dori being the initial spreader. But if himself or Thorin had no idea what had happened and led the necklace into Bilbo's hands, it was a mystery as to why the snowy-maned dwarf would.

"You're sure about this?"

"Sure!" At this point the two brothers had dropped their activities and stood around the halfling, thumbs in their belts and stroking their faces. "Breakfast, a few days ago. He was telling his brother, and we heard, apparently."

So, Dori. "I hope you two understand that rumor-spreading isn't polite to the parties involved!" Bilbo scolded, and if he were a parent his tone of voice then would be much suited for such a job. "Master Thorin had been looking high and low for the thing, only to find me having it - think of it! I must have truly looked like a burglar."

At that point Bilbo was talking to himself more than anything, but at that last part which he mumbled to himself, the brothers picked up and questioned him, "wait, what do you mean, he was looking for it? Didn't he give it to you?"

Of course, at the realization of what huge misunderstanding had occurred, and with a bit more word on Bilbo's part as to why exactly it was important to get to Dori (the key, still lost), Fili and Kili nearly trampled him over in their sprint from the spire. "Are you coming, Master Baggins?" Fili called from over his shoulder.

"Running," Bilbo breathed in disbelief, and with a huff and upwards pull of his belt he went off after them.

So many questions buzzed through his head, flinging about his head in such a distracting manner that he didn't realize that he was out of breath until he was once again at the foot of the kitchen doors. And, conveniently, Thorin sat near them, eyes downcast and actually looking rather somber until the trio's approach. "There's the lot of you," he rumbled, and stood to his towering height. "The contest started right away, of course; however-"

"Uncle, it was Dori!"

Thorin rose an eyebrow and studied Kili. "What was?"

Bilbo peered from behind Fili and chirped, "the necklace, the necklace!"

During their journey the hobbit often entertained himself with trivial thoughts, imaginary situations, and the like, such as: what would happen if someone tickled Thorin's nose with a feather in his sleep? At first it was just out of pure silliness and a result of Bilbo's slight fasination at just low long dwarf noses were (rather comical, really), but after days of realizing just how alert Thorin was at all times of the day, the idea became something of a gruesome subject. One stroke of that feather and the prince would unsheathe his sword, still belted at his side in sleep, and lop off your entire arm! Or even, at the sound of soft slippers approaching his bedroll, one loud footfall and a rock laying on the ground might just get you between the eyes.

Even with such supposed reflexes having been confirmed during their encounter with the trolls, Thorin's leap up and barging through the doors at the very utterance of necklace caused them all to immediately flinch in surprise. The momentum of his steps were long, and when Bilbo dove into the room himself, said steps disapeared into a cloud of flour.

Actually, the whole room was a cloud of flour. The kitchen was organized in several rows of long cooking tables for the event, and through each walkway was the sudden spray of lofty white, a spilling of raspberries, or what frightened Bilbo the most about following Thorin through the rabble and chaos, cooking instruments being flung in every direction.

Nothing like Stock's cooking contest. Not at all.

After looking about him and seeing that he was left alone by the brothers, Bilbo took in a breath and went into the confusion and disorder himself. The passage was much too reminiscent of the scarring occasion at Bag End with the dishes, except now there was the added affect of blindness. A sudden spur of song sounded from one side, its rhythm slowing and hastening at the individual drops of plates on wood, bowls clanking against bowls. At one point Baggins felt something slop onto the side of his face only to realize that stewed apple had gotten in his hair.

Finally, someone decided that it was a good time to stop waving around an open bag of flour, and the cloud parted to give way to Thorin turning to Dori at the end of the table row. He may have laughed at the dwarf's whitened appearance if it wasn't for the fact that now there was a truly uncomfortable feeling of sticky slush in his ear as well.

"Master Dori!" Bilbo hoped to the heavens that he'd never have to be under that furious stare again. The cooking dwarf was all smiles at first, simply stirring into a bowl, until he actually looked up and shrank under the prince hovering over him. Due to the loudness of the room Thorin raised his voice to be heard, which made Dori seem even more terrified. "Tell me where you found the necklace, now."

Dori went nearly as pale as his beard. "Necklace, Master Thorin?" he asked, hands gripping nervously onto his dough roller.

To this Thorin seemed to think that there would be no repeating himself, which surprised Bilbo since he always took the prince as a dwarf with a mouthful of sometimes redundant words and formalities, not that the hobbit would admit it to his face. After fingering through his pockets he appeared out from behind the towering other and wagged the golden chain, to which Dori quickly spilled, "I shouldn't have touched it, I know; but Master Bilbo had vacated the room, and when I saw it laying there I thought to return it! It was improper for me to tell the others, but-"

"You say Bilbo left the chain?" At Thorin's sharp glance Bilbo halted his hands from putting the chain around his neck to shake head in distress. "What room?"

"Why, the bath house, Mater Thorin," Dori quickly said. At this the raven-haired dwarf stayed quiet, whether in growing suspicion or boiling frustration Bilbo couldn't tell, until he looked at the other and saw an expression of thought on the prince's face. There in the dip of his brow was a mark of confusion as well, and on the ground his eyes moved to and fro across the tiles.

"I'd gone there to bathe, after dinner," and his voice was nearly lost under the ruckus of the kitchen. His eyes continued to contemplate the floor, and for a hardened warrior the halfling thought his thinking slow, for his own mind was already racing.

The room rose up from Bilbo's memories, and the steam parted for an emptied, smoking bath to give way. It was there that he'd been caught in so much anticipation of another's coming that he threw off his clothes and sunk into the waters without a thought of anything else but a quickening of pace, even while a tidy tower of wooden soap boxes had been waiting, unseen, at the steps below. There as well were little philer of shampoo to rub out the grease and grime of a long travel, to foam through his honeyed locks; and, left in solitude under the shadow of the tub, a little box disemboweled and left empty of a soap bar. Instead it lay open with false purpose, for next to it glinted the moist metal of a golden chain.

Of course Bilbo hadn't seen it; however, Dori apparently had. There was one thing that the both of them didn't see, and it wasn't warm like wood or shining as gold, but cold and turning to shadow as dark metal does.

"I must have forgotten it my hurry." Thorin's blue eyes picked up to meet Bilbo's, and if there was sheepishness that rested in his gaze, it was quite lost to the shorter.

"But I don't remember seeing you there," Bilbo said faintly. Why would he have been in a hurry?

As if his musings were plucked straight from his brain, Thorin replied, "I made sure to finish before you arrived," and the embarrassed admittance in his voice was quickly replaced by an expression of surprise and a dusting of raspberry red under coarse black whiskers.

Bilbo cleared his throat in realizing that Dori still stood at attention, shuffling and looking to the side as if he knew this was not meant for his ears, and Fili and Kili, who simply smirked at each other and rose their brows at their uncle's suggestion. "Well," Baggins cut in, and no matter how pink in the face he himself had gotten, he leaned in to speak to Thorin in a more private tone of voice under the loud current of the room, "let's get your key then, shall we?"

The moment broke when Thorin blinked and realized that yes, the key must be there! - his face turned over to one of determination and purpose, and with a stiff nod he beckoned the hobbit to follow, and gestured for Dori to proceed with his cooking, which he indeed did. Kili motioned to follow as well, but as the prince and halfling parted, the latter's eyes darted over his shoulder to see Fili hold his younger brother back.

"Let's join the competition, Kili," he said, and though Kili looked disappointed, they were both lost from sight when a hand tugged him forward through the kitchen doors and into the hallway. It removed itself once the doors were shut, but the pace that the dwarf set made Bilbo feel like he was indeed being dragged.

Onward through the halls they went, towards the easternmost wing of Elrond's house, without a word spared but those that told of haste for an important task. Very unlike how the home usually was during the high time of day, no lingering elven-folk or wise-eyed vagabonds were strewn down their path, only the frequent carved pillars that observed them with wooden vines and leaves. Thorin's black hair rustled smoothly after him, and from behind him Bilbo stared at it as they moved. Had the prince truly had avoidance in his mind while bathing that night, just as he? Thinking back on it, as the company had traveled and stopped to bathe, Thorin had made his time undressed brief, but never was he shy - he was a warrior, after all. That wasn't to say, however, that Bilbo had ever seen him in such a state; he could hardly recollect it, now that the thought about it.

 _Just as well._ But as they turned into the bathing quarter, the halfling nearly stopped dead still in recognition that _Thorin felt the same way._

And there he moved, blue eyes of brewing storms shifting along the landscape of clean floors in search of the key of his heirs. Here he knelt to peer under a sitting bench, and his head tilted in observance of the tub's inner crevices. The fine cloth of his garb, as dark a blue as Bilbo often found in the Shire sky when the grass was but a blur of shapes and the stars began to pierce the sky; and his hands that peaked their fleshy color from a trimming of black sleeve, wide and caloused and perhaps gentle too, for he was an uncle of two young nephews, and a lost prince that once cared for his people in great halls. Maybe he could love Bilbo.

"Are you going to help or not?"

Bilbo jolted at the rumbling voice, just realizing the pair of eyes trained on him. Of course, the key. "Yes, of course," he muttered, and down he went with Thorin on his hands and knees to look about the floors surrounding the tub. "You know," he said, "I wish you could have simply thought of the possibility of leaving it here." The dwarf looked up at him quickly to defend himself, but at seeing Bilbo's laughing eyes he allowed a small smirk to lighten his face.

"I wouldn't have it as easy as that," Thorin countered, and the hobbit faintly chuckled as he pressed his cheek against the cool floor to look under the steps.

At first the shadows seemed to absorb it, but Bilbo's eyes were a halfling's, and that promised sharpness in the dark. With a sharp breath he moved to reach for it, his fingers stretching until a bitter cold brushed his skin and burned in his fist. After a small struggle to get his arm out from the small space and sit upright, he continued to hold it without a word, only regarding the dwarf that continued to search in front of him, thinking of what to do. Of course he'd give it, but after the key returns to Thorin's hands, what then? A heavy thought formed in his mind, and its voice whispered, _he'll forget about you, Bilbo._

With a clench of his teeth, he reminded himself what a silly though that was. Thorin would hardly be forgetting him; they still had a long ways to go till they reached Erebor. So, he scooted forward and held his palm out, allowing the angular key to catch the sunlight coming in from the high-placed windows. All of this trouble hardly seemed worth it for such a small thing, but when Bilbo tapped Thorin's shoulder and the dwarf turned and showed such an expression of surprise that one would think only a child could make such a face, it seemed worth it.

"The key," he said, sounding breathless, and grabbed it with two fingers to admire it against the light. When no thanks followed, Bilbo merely chewed his lip, figuring that he should have expected this, and allowed his eyes to linger elsewhere.

Sure, as a Baggins he was very sensible by nature, but there was also that impulsive Tookish blood to be accounted for. Without warning a mix of disappointment and regret and frustration flooded him, all with the thought of his assumptions being foolish - who was he to think that a prince could fall for him? A golden chain that had before rested starkly against his red lapel was pulled off, and he pushed it into Thorin's hands as well. "Suppose you'll be needing that, too," he remarked rigidly with a small sniff of his nose. "You kept the key on it, didn't you? Well, now, that's done and done."

Then he stood, but he didn't miss how Thorin's face fell, or the knitting of his eyebrows as he got on his feet as well. "But it was a gift. Surely you don't think that I'll only have the key on this necklace, Bilbo."

"Everyone," Bilbo exclaimed, his voice suddenly heightened in volume and pitch, and Thorin blinked in surprise, "thinks that it isn't a _gift. I_ thought it wasn't just a gift. Thorin, when the others told me that you were asking for me to be your companion, or however you'd name it, I believed them." He stopped, and with lips pressed in a thin line, he stomped a few steps away as if to leave, but turned about again to add more quietly, "I was going to say yes."

The prince stood as still as stone, hand still before him with key in hand and chain dangling from his fingers. Bilbo crossed his arms, face already heated, but Thorin's was simply stilled, eyes wide and forgetful of his words, which was very rare indeed. Then he tightened his grasp on the pieces of metal and hesitantly stepped forward. "Really?"

Keeping himself from simply huffing, Bilbo rubbed his nose and said, "yes, really."

His approach was guarded, and his face slowly fell to earnest and caution. With a careful look into Bilbo's gray-blue eyes he let the words fall from his mouth, and they put the hobbit's heart in his throat: "Then I wouldn't gift it to you, but offer it, and offer myself."

His face was now so near, tilted and washing warm, fresh breath over his face, and right then Thorin was entirely something new, flittering through the smallest slot of his life to become as large as the sky, like a drop of water that the dark, parched ground hadn't met for a hundred moons it watched sail over. 

When Bilbo placed his hand on Thorin's cheek, the prince leaned his face into the palm and sealed his eyes with dark lashes. For a moment the halfling simply studied the landscape of the face he held, the long angle of his nose, the bridge of his brow, the slight parting of waiting, anticipating lips. A scratch of scruffy hair brushed his chin as well when he drew in, but his eyes were open and mind a whirl, only shutting once his mouth was on Thorin's and his fingers moved further to the nape of his other's neck.

All control was his. At feeling two wide hands grasp his shoulders he drew air sharply through his nose, and Bilbo placed the hand not tangled in the wavy locks of black hair on Thorin's side, where he felt the slope of a generous hip under his touch. Everything was suddenly _this, this, this,_ and the world thrummed to each time their lips parted in a somber sound and met again, the warmth of Thorin's scalp, each time their noses pressed against each other awkwardly and Bilbo chuckled and send it in the dwarf's mouth and down his throat until they were both only fingertips on faces and kisses and _I've waited for this, I've waited for you._


End file.
